Disrupted
by sophie-the-duchess
Summary: Anna Arendelle has her entire future planned out, until she accidentally bumps into the attractive UPS guy at work; this chance meeting will reveal a secret plot to frame Anna's sister for a crime she didn't commit, disrupting all of Anna's plans and everything she ever thought she knew about love.
1. Chapter 1

_Twenty hours deep  
Oh, it was enough time for you to change everything for me_

 _Daphne Loves Derby, "Hammers and Hearts"_

—

Anna Arendelle was not a very organized or punctual person.

Most days she was late, scooting into the office at a quarter past nine, having overslept despite the seven different alarms set to go off in succession at ten-minute intervals. On certain occasions, Anna's own sister had to call her to wake her up when she somehow managed to sleep through all of them.

"You're twenty-two years old now, Anna," she'd scold, and Anna could practically hear the scowl in her voice. "I shouldn't have to call you to wake you up for work."

On this particular day, Anna had only woken up five minutes late, and she scurried out the door with just enough time to snag a chocolate croissant and a coffee from her favorite streetside barista cart on her way to the office.

It was only mid-August but the weather in New York had chilled considerably. She had dressed herself in a high-waisted skirt made of olive-green suede with a black turtleneck tucked into the top, with matching black leather ballet flats and black knee-high stockings. Her strawberry-blonde hair was braided up and wrapped around her head in a messy, boho-chic updo reminiscent of a crown, and her freckled face was clean and bright; she never wore makeup to work.

After lunch she found herself sleepy and unable to focus on work; her turquoise-blue eyes were fixated on her computer screen as she clicked and scrolled, leaning an elbow on her desk, resting her chin on the heel of her hand and chewing on the cap of a pen when she was startled by a sudden male voice.

"Anna, I was supposed to have those proofs for the autumn style piece on my desk by eleven."

 _Shit_.

Anna spit out the cap and whipped around in her chair to see Kai, the head of the design department, standing at the entrance of her office, tapping his fingers impatiently on the doorframe. He was a tall, but rotund, man, of average attractiveness, with stormy blue eyes and a bulbous nose. It was becoming more and more evident with each passing day that his reddish-brown hair was starting to gray as he approached middle age, yet his face still held a youthful appearance.

"Shit," Anna cursed out loud this time, as she began scrambling through stacks of papers on her desk. "I'm sorry, Kai. I totally spaced."

With an ease that only came with his years of dealing with the airheaded heiress of Arendelle Publishing, Kai strolled forward, reached down, and plucked a packet of papers from the bottom of a stack on Anna's desk with his thumb and forefinger, handing them to her with a smirk. She heaved a sigh of relief, but her face still flushed with embarrassment.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"Just because your name is on the company letterhead doesn't mean you get to slack any more than the rest of us, Princess." The comment wasn't malicious, but rather sassy with a touch of tough love, laced with a lightheartedness that was commonplace between them. His eyes glinted with good humor.

"I know, I know. I really am sorry."

He leaned over then, sneaking a peek at the browser window that was open on Anna's computer screen. The redheaded woman shrunk back in shame. He flashed her a knowing look before straightening back up to leave.

"Don't worry about it. Get them to me by the end of the day?"

"You got it."

He walked away from her desk and stopped at the door, turning around to address the young woman once more.

"Oh, and I like the blue hydrangeas better."

Before Anna could respond, her mouth hanging open as her jaw and throat worked to try to make a sound, Kai winked and left her office.

Maybe Pinteresting wedding ideas at work wasn't her smartest idea. But with the wedding only a month away and so much left to do, planning and finalizing the finer details had begun to take up most of her days.

Anna gazed longingly at the naked ring finger of her left hand. When her fiance had proposed it had been sudden, spontaneous, and so he hadn't given her an engagement ring. Nor could he afford one; as the youngest of thirteen siblings, he didn't receive much in terms of inheritance and had to make his own way in life. But that didn't matter to Anna; she wasn't materialistic, despite having been born and raised as the daughter of the most prominent publishing magnate of the century.

In only five weeks time she would officially become Mrs. Hans Westergaard. The thought made her swoon.

Anna discovered that her body could function on autopilot while her mind was otherwise occupied, as she spent the rest of the afternoon consumed by thoughts of the wedding: making copies as she considered the pros and cons of an outdoor reception; nibbling on the lunch that Hans had so considerately dropped off for her as she fantasized about flower arrangements; shooting off emails as she daydreamed about which hairstyle would elicit the best reaction from the guests as she walked down the aisle; proofreading documents as she wondered which color of nail polish would best complement her dress.

At half past five, Anna made her way between the rows of cubicles to Kai's office on the other side of the floor, a fresh stack of xeroxed papers marked all over with corrective ink nestled against her chest.

She was internally debating, deciding between ivory or aubergine table linens for the reception, when she smacked headfirst into something hard. The force of the collision caused her to stumble and fall backwards, landing roughly on her rump and sending her papers flying everywhere in a flurry of white and black and red.

" _Oww_ ," Anna moaned as she sat up, rubbing her sore bottom. She cracked an eye open to see the UPS man staring down at her as though he'd seen a ghost.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his timbre thick with concern. He was tall, even taller than Kai, and burly, with wide shoulders and a broad chest; the fabric of his chocolate-brown and goldenrod uniform seemed to strain against the masculine thickness of his body, the buttons running up the front of his collared shirt pulling taut, as though even the company's largest available size had been just slightly too snug for him. His tawny-colored eyes looked mildly distressed as he reached out a hand to offer to help her up, his other hand gripping the strap of his satchel with white knuckles.

"Oh yeah, _pffft_ , I'm _fine_ ," Anna insisted in an overly exaggerated manner, dismissing his concern with a flick of her wrist and brushing his hand aside as she tried to play it cool. She winced when a shooting pain arrowed through her tailbone, but she hoped he didn't notice. "I should be asking you if _you're_ okay, since I ran into you."

The young man shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Christopher, isn't it?"

"Kristoff," the man corrected. He flipped his shaggy, sandy-blonde hair out of his face with a tick of his head. "With a 'K'."

Anna noticed then that he was wearing a nametag that said "Kristoff" in bright metallic letters.

 _Duh_.

He swallowed with effort and pointed towards where the ginger-haired woman still sat sprawled out on the ground. "You may want to, um…"

Anna glanced down to see that her skirt had hiked up well above her waist from her tumble, revealing her underwear. Today was laundry day, so of course she was wearing a pair of hideously girly granny panties patterned with tiny pink flowers and a petite satin bow; how mortifying.

Flustered, Anna quickly adjusted her skirt and leapt to her feet, smoothing the front of the material in a frantic bid to look put together and unfrazzled.

She jabbed a finger in his direction. "You didn't see anything."

Kristoff put both palms up in an amenable gesture of surrender.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" she huffed, going on the offense and putting her other hand on her hip a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment. "It's nearly six o'clock. Most people have closed up and left for the day."

Raising an eyebrow, Kristoff carefully grasped the wrist of the small, freckled hand that was still pointing at him and moved it to point at the UPS box right beside them, Anna's eyes following the motion the entire way.

"I pick up every day at five-thirty," he stated matter-of-factly, a hint of annoyance seeping into his voice. Sure enough, Anna could see that above the slot of the mailbox was a label that noted the daily pickup time as 5:30 p.m.

"Oh." Anna's blush darkened to an even deeper shade of scarlet. His fingers were hot on her skin, curled around her delicate wrist, and she squirmed her hand out of his hold.

"You wanna help me with this?" He gestured downward with a nod of his head.

Anna sputtered. "With what?"

"The mess you made."

Scattered around their feet was a mix of both Anna's papers and Kristoff's mail mingling together on the floor; he must've been in the middle of emptying the box when Anna crashed into him, causing him to drop his pickup.

"Oh, of course." Anna dropped to her knees and began scooping as much as she could. Kristoff crouched before her and began doing the same, easily snatching the pieces just out of her reach with his longer arms. They both reached for an envelope at the same time and their fingers brushed briefly, causing Anna to jerk her hand back as though he'd burned her. Kristoff gave her a look, but said nothing, continuing to shuffle papers together.

When at last they had separated the debris into two categorized piles, Anna gingerly lifted her own into her arms as Kristoff stuffed his stack of mail into his bag.

"Thank you," she said when at last they both stood straight again. "And, I'm sorry."

Kristoff lifted and dropped his shoulders. "No biggie."

Anna blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it what?"

"You're not going to say 'sorry' too? Or 'thank you'? Or even 'you're welcome'?"

The blonde man's brows furrowed. "Uhh, you bumped into _me_ , remember?"

"So?"

" _Sooo_ ," he started, scratching the back of his head. "It's _your_ fault."

Now it was Anna's turn to furrow her brows. "Yeah, but you could at least be _polite_ about it."

"I should be polite because you weren't watching where you were going and made _my_ job harder?" Kristoff let out a laugh. "You're crazy."

Anna's eyes widened in shock. "Well, _you're_ rude. And you didn't make _my_ job any easier, either. Now I have to go collate these, and I'm already past my deadline."

"That's not my problem," Kristoff scoffed, crossing his arms over his barreled chest.

 _The nerve of this guy._

Rather than stay and argue, Anna stuck her nose in the air and sniffed, turning and walking away from him with what was left of her dignity intact.

"Have a good evening, Christopher."

 _Who does he think he is, anyway?_

"Be careful where you're going next time," he called after her. Anna only snorted over her shoulder in response, causing Kristoff to shake his head in mild amusement. Boy, was she a feisty one.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm a bit of a manic when it's not as I plan it  
'Cause I start losing my head and then I get up in a panic_

 _Lights, "Saviour"_

—

"What if the board of directors doesn't vote me in?"

The elder Arendelle was pacing the floor, her sensible black kitten heels probably wearing a hole in the thin, flat carpet. She was wearing her teal-colored power suit today, with a cowl-necked, charcoal gray blouse beneath the blazer that contrasted starkly against her porcelain skin. Her diamond-and-silver wristwatch and matching earrings glittered like ice crystals in the sunlight streaming in through Anna's office window, which faced the harbor. On her hands were silk gloves that matched the color of her suit.

"Elsa, they _will_."

"But what if they don't?" Elsa paused her fiddling with a lock of white-blonde hair that had fallen loose from her braided chignon to tug at the hem of her pencil skirt, before returning to the hair. "What if they think I'm too young? Too inexperienced? Too anxious? Too… _freakish?_ "

She raised both hands to show off the backs of her gloves to Anna, as though indicating that being a germophobe may somehow disqualify her from becoming Arendelle Publishing's next CEO.

"Okay, first of all," Anna started, rising from her seat behind her desk and walking around to her sister. "You're twenty-five, almost twenty-six, years old. Dad started and ran the company when he was only seventeen."

Elsa pursed her lips, her light blue eyes wide with nervousness and self-doubt.

"Second of all, you're the best at what you do. Everyone knows that. Even with your–" Anna waved her hand through the air as she searched for the word. "– _thing_ with germs."

"Mysophobia," Elsa clarified, matter-of-factly.

Anna nodded. "Right. And no one knows this business like you do. In fact, I think you may even know more than Mom and Dad did."

Her voice twinged with sadness at the mention of their deceased parents and she quieted, face solemn. "They'd be _so proud_ of you, Elsa."

Moving slowly, Anna raised a hand and tenderly tucked the loose strand of hair back behind Elsa's ear before she could end up pulling it right out of her scalp; it was a comforting action, and Elsa's hands dropped to clasp over her stomach. Her baby sister was the only person who Elsa had ever allowed to touch her after their parents perished in a yachting accident when they were only teenagers.

Elsa's lower lip trembled. "You'll be there, right?"

"Of course."

Although Anna was technically on the board, she didn't have a set role or any real duties and was mostly just there for show, being the daughter of the founder and all– like some sort of royal status symbol. But she was still allowed an honorary vote and a hand in the planning of corporate events.

"Oh, _God_ ," Elsa groaned suddenly, holding her stomach. "I'm going to be sick."

The redheaded woman shifted her hands to place one on either of her older sister's shoulders. "Elsa, take a deep breath."

She did as she was told, inhaling deeply.

"Now, let it go."

Elsa let out the breath she was holding in a whoosh of air.

"Better?"

She smiled. "Better."

–

The board of directors had voted unanimously to swear Elsa in as CEO at the start of the fourth quarter, which was already less than two months away. She had been thrilled, and Anna was elated, and they celebrated the moment by promising to split a bottle of champagne together later that night, off the clock. At the conclusion of the vote, the board shifted the topic of conversation to begin planning the press party to announce the decision, and Anna lost track of time as she became engulfed in the details; she was surprised to see that it was already nearing half past five when she left the conference room.

As she made her way to her office to grab her purse and lock up, Anna saw Kristoff across the hallway, decked out in his recognizable brown uniform as he stacked parcels and packages onto a truck cart, and felt a pang of regret. She knew she owed him an apology for her irrational behavior the last time they had met. Clenching her fists, as if doing so would help her hold onto her determination, she marched over to him.

"Kristoff," she greeted as she approached, as genially as possible.

Kristoff paused, holding a box in mid-air, as turned his head towards the voice that had addressed him; his expression was somewhat surprised once he recognize the feisty young woman who had ran into him earlier in the week.

He placed the box on top of the pyramid, the muscles in his shoulders and arms rippling from the effort as he did so. "Oh, it's you."

"Anna," she corrected him by way of introduction.

"Anna." He repeated in greeting, adjusting his cap to reveal more of his handsomely boyish face and straightening up. He easily loomed two or three whole heads over the smaller woman, and so she had to tilt her head almost entirely back to be able to look up at him.

" _On_ -na."

" _Onna_. What can I do you for?"

"Well, I–" Anna wrung her fingers together as she stared down at her shoes. She was wearing her black heeled booties today, with black nylons and a sleeveless royal-blue bodycon that hugged her curves and bared her freckled shoulders, her hair tied up in a strawberry-blonde ballerina topknot atop her head. "I wanted to apologize… properly… for the other day. I was the one being rude."

Kristoff lifted his eyebrows at her in a manner that Anna interpreted as smug, but when she met his eyes once more, her blue gaze locking on his honeyed irises, she saw the friendliness there.

Anna inhaled sharply. "Not that it's any excuse, but I've just been super stressed lately, and I have a lot going on, and my mind's been all over the place–" she flailed her hands around her ears, to visually demonstrate what the craziness inside her head was like. "And… I guess, I'm just– I'm sorry. I am. There. I said it."

She let out a breath and sighed, pressing her lips together into a flat line and folding her hands behind her back, awkwardly rocking back on her heels, waiting for him to say something.

"I'm sorry, too," he muttered at last.

Anna glanced up at him from beneath her lashes to see that his face was sheepish, but sincere.

He continued speaking. "I'm not good with people, so I usually don't realize when I'm acting like–"

"A total jackass?"

Kristoff cracked a smile at her joke before he could stop it. "Right."

They spent a few moments grinning at each other dumbly before he broke the silence.

"Would you, um–" Kristoff glanced around, suddenly uneasy. "I don't do this often– _ever_ , actually– and, I mean, I get off work at six, and– what I'm trying to say– _ask,_ is... would you like to get a drink, or something?"

Now it was Anna's turn to become uneasy. She bit her lip and reached up to brush her wispy baby bangs out of her face– her nervous habit. "Oh. No, no… I'm– I have a fiance."

Kristoff's eyes darted to her empty ring finger. Anna noticed.

"Are you lying because you don't want to go out with me?" His expression morphed into something like a half-grin, half-grimace. "You can just say so."

"Of course not," Anna snapped back, offended. "I just don't have a ring."

"Uh-huh."

"Not that it's any of your business, anyway."

"Sure." Kristoff bent and lifted the last package from the floor, dropping it on the top of the stack with a _thud_. "Forget I asked."

Anna felt the urge to accept his offer, out of spite or to prove some sort of point, but what _would_ be the point? She hardly knew this guy. And ring or no ring, she had a _fiancé_. The last thing she should be doing is going out for drinks with every random hot dude she happened to bump into. Plus, she already had drinking plans for the evening with Elsa.

Shaking her head to quiet her thoughts, Anna spoke clearly and with finality. "Consider it forgotten."

Without another word, Kristoff nodded in return and pushed the cart down the hall and out of sight. Anna watched him go with a sort of forlorn feeling of longing lingering below the surface of her skin, tingling her nerves and causing the hairs on her arms and neck to stand on end.


	3. Chapter 3

'Cause you don't see me  
And you don't need me  
And you don't love me  
The way I wish you would

Josie and the Pussycats, "You Don't See Me"

—

The redheaded woman's knees jiggled anxiously beneath the wrought-iron bistro table as she crossed and uncrossed her slender legs, her feet bouncing up and down in their strappy black sandals, her unpainted fingertips tapping a random melody on the glass tabletop.

The late August day had warmed considerably since the morning, and so Anna had shrugged off her camel-colored moto jacket, opting to enjoy the sun on her skin in only her white v-neck blouse and khaki joggers, watching the people and cars pass by on the street with tempered interest. Her long, light auburn hair was down in waves, cascading over her back, fluttering this way and that whenever the breeze picked up.

She was outside at their favorite cafe, where she and her fiance often went for tea and sandwiches and adorable little chocolate cakes (of which she had ordered a few hundred for the wedding, which was now only four weeks away and ohmygod Anna could not handle the excitement, she swore was about to burst). It was already 12:30, halfway through her lunch hour, and Hans was late.

Hans was never late for anything. Anna was the one who was always late, but when it came to her fiance she made an extra effort to not keep him waiting.

As he was keeping her waiting now.

At a quarter to one Anna decided to head back to the office. Her calls and texts over the past hour had gone unanswered, and although she was worried that something may have happened, she was mostly miffed that he couldn't even bother to let her know that he wouldn't make it.

"Hey, hun," Anna heard as soon as she rose to leave, and turned to see Hans jogging up to her between the rows of tables, his long-on-top, russet-colored hair bobbing from side-to-side as his slicked back style fell apart from being jostled. "Sorry I'm late. Work was crazy."

He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek, breaking the kiss a second too soon to hold out her chair out for her to sit back down, before taking his own seat across from her and asking her how her day was going so far.

Anna knew how wild and unpredictable the world of stockbroking could be. Although Hans had only just started out in the buying and selling of stocks on the exchange, he was quickly making a name for himself. People were naturally drawn to him for the same reasons she was: he was attentive, charming, smooth-talking, considerate, compassionate, an all-around gentleman– Anna could go on and on for days outlining everything she loved about her fiance. However which way the rest of those brutish Wall Street cutthroats behaved, Hans was easily the polar opposite, and apparently it seemed to be working in his favor.

It was for all these reasons and more that Anna felt more than a little guilty for being so peeved at him for being late.

"Did you order those little cakes you like yet?" Hans asked absentmindedly, too engrossed in scanning the menu to make eye contact as he spoke. "The vanilla bean buttercream ones?"

Anna frowned. "No, I got the chocolate ones. Those are my favorite."

Hans hummed in response, not really listening. Anna's mood soured even further.

The waiter came and took their orders and left without much fanfare. When their plates came, they ate mostly in silence, Hans punctuating the quiet occasionally with a comment about the tastiness of the food and the beautiful weather. He didn't bother to mention their wedding or ask her how the planning was going. Not even once.

The check appeared and Anna watched as Hans made a calculated move to reach for it before pulling back and patting his pockets, scoffing to himself.

"Can you believe it?" he chuckled, looking at his fiancee with cheeky green eyes. "I forgot my wallet at work. I'm sorry, sweetie, do you mind getting this one?"

Anna pursed her lips. She was more than used to this routine by now. She was fond of her fiance, dearly, but he always had a knack for "forgetting" his wallet whenever it was time to pay. But she loved him, right? So…

"Don't worry about it," Anna said assuredly through a small, strained smile, slipping her black American Express card out of her pocketbook and sliding it into the slot of the leather bifold. Within moments the bill disappeared just as quickly as it had come, and a few moments later it was back with a receipt for her to sign.

Anna stared at the receipt longer than she should have, her eyes lingering on the information presented to her on the paper; reading and re-reading the subtotal printed in stark black-on-white, the tax, the total after tax, the last four digits of her card indicating that the payment had gone through successfully– the payment from her card, which pulled funds from her bank account. To most people, this knowledge would be expected, and therefore inconsequential; but to Anna, it was an epiphany.

She paid for their loft, their cars, their electronics, their monthly parking passes (which do not come cheaply in the city), and even their upcoming wedding… now that she thought about it, she paid for everything. Granted, most of the money for their luxurious lifestyle came from the trust fund left behind by her parents' estate, so she had never really minded, since she didn't truly consider it her money– until now.

She paid for everything, and Hans paid for nothing.

But what could she do about it now?

When Anna signed and dropped the pen, Hans rose to leave, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek– the same way he always did. "See you at home, sweetie."

Anna furrowed her brows. "You're not even going to say 'thank you'?"

He didn't say "I love you," either, but that was a whole other can of worms that Anna didn't have the patience to open up right now. He seldom told her that he loved her; rarely did he show it, either. Public displays of affection were nonexistent in Hans Westergaard's playbook.

Hans blinked three times in rapid succession. "Oh, of course. Thank you, hun."

"Where is your wallet, Hans?" Anna asked then, crossing her hands beneath her chin as she looked up at him, interlocking her fingers and narrowing her eyes at her fiance. "Isn't the point of a wallet to always have it on you, in your pocket? You know, so you can have it. On you. Always. In your pocket."

"I told you, sweetie, it's back at my desk." His polite voice had lowered considerably, urging her with his eyes to lower her own voice; she would do no such thing. Anna puckered her lips defiantly.

"Maybe it's high time we finally discuss our finances," Anna mused, raising her eyebrows. "After all, we'll be sharing them soon enough."

She didn't know how much he made before taxes or brought home after taxes, how much he spent, what exactly he spent it on, what kind of loans or bills or outstanding debt he may have in his name. She didn't know anything about his financial situation at all. She hadn't even met his family yet, for fuck's sake.

One of the downsides of rushing into marriage, she supposed.

"You know I don't like to share that information," he quipped– his usual line. "It's my private business. Personal."

Anna gritted her teeth. "But we're getting married."

"Yeah, yeah…" Hans trailed off, unconvinced, not really agreeing with his fiancee but obviously trying to placate her; as though her becoming his wife wasn't a good enough reason to divulge his credit score. It only served to further her suspicions that he was hiding something, or multiple somethings– or at the very least that he wasn't as committed to this relationship and their future together as she was.

"I'm going to be your wife!" She nearly screeched the words as she stood, slamming her palms down on the tabletop and causing a few passersby and fellow restaurant patrons to stare and whisper excitedly. Even Hans was startled and he jumped in surprise. "How is that not enough for you?"

Hans waved his hands in a "settle down" gesture that made Anna feel like a child being scolded for behaving badly– which, she surmised, she sort of was; it reminded her of the way she had treated Kristoff the day she had blown up at him for no good reason.

"Okay, Anna, sweetie, whatever you want, we'll discuss it when we get home. Just please calm down– you're making a scene." His voice was careful; to Anna, it was condescending.

Maybe it was the stress of the wedding planning, or her never-ending workload, or having all of the responsibilities of their bills and finances fall on her shoulders, or his lack of passion about the wedding (or anything, really), or something else entirely, but before Anna was even aware of what she was doing she was reaching across the table, snatching up her glass of ice water, and chucking it full-force towards Hans, projecting its contents directly into his face.

"You want a scene? There's your scene."

She stormed away from him then, knowing damn well that he wouldn't follow after her– he'd be a fool to try.


	4. Chapter 4

We tell stories and you don't know why  
I'm coming off a little shy  
But I do

Taylor Swift, "Begin Again"

—

It was a little after six in the evening when Kristoff finally finished his rounds, arriving at his last stop– the Arendelle Publishing building– just in time for the night guard to let him in before locking the doors for the weekend. He didn't typically run this late, but traffic had been a nightmare, and falling behind on his first stop meant that he would be exponentially later for each location that followed.

The floor was dark when he arrived to empty the box, whistling a tune as he pushed his cart through the cubicles. All was silent, as was to be expected, save for the sound of somebody clicking a computer mouse like a maniac somewhere nearby.

Curious, Kristoff halted his whistling and cranked his head around the corner of a cubicle to see a single office at the end of the hall awash with light; it was the only doorway illuminated out of the entire line of office suites along the wall. His curiosity getting the better of him, Kristoff walked over to the room and poked his head in, surprised to see Anna hammering at her keyboard with her lightning-fast fingertips.

"Hey, Anna," he greeted, remembering to pronounce her name correctly. He wasn't usually one to be nosy, but something about Anna made him feel like being sociable. "What are you doing here so late on a Friday?"

"The Jets are playing the Patriots in a pre-season match this weekend, so everything is booked up solid," Anna replied absentmindedly as she continued to scroll through the browser, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"What?"

"Hotels," Anna leaned back in her chair and sighed, carding her fingers through her hair, pulling them away when they snagged painfully in a knot. Kristoff noticed a large coffee stain over the right breast of her white blouse and the way her red-rimmed eyes were puffed and tired; she looked like a woman come undone. "I need a place to stay for… the foreseeable future."

"Something happen to your place?"

She snorted. "Yeah, it's been infested."

Kristoff frowned. "With roaches?"

"Something like that."

The mailman shifted nervously on his feet. This was somehow becoming the longest conversation he'd had with anyone in– well, in a while. "Isn't, um, your sister– the blonde one? Couldn't you stay with her?"

Anna shook her head. "Too many outside contaminants."

Kristoff gave her a quizzical look, but she shooed it away with a wave of her hand and an expression that said, "Don't even ask."

"Maybe I should try Airbnb," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"You could crash with me," Kristoff spit out suddenly without thinking. Then, he followed up quickly with: "That is, if your fiance won't mind."

What the hell had gotten into him to offer such a thing? He hoped she interpreted it as a joke.

She didn't. She paused her on-screen search, considering, then turned her face up to look at him.

"I don't give rat's ass what my fiance thinks at the moment," she stated flatly, leaning forward over her desk. "If he's even still my fiance."

Kristoff picked up on the source of her distress then and nodded his head back with an ohh as the realization hit him.

Anna, in turn, picked up on the fact that his neck was as thick and masculine as the rest of him was.

"Trouble in paradise?"

The redheaded woman clenched her teeth with visible effort. "He's such an asshole. But he's not. But he is. But he's not."

"Sure."

Anna let out a strangled, frustrated growl and buried her face in both of her hands then, steadying her breathing for a strenuous moment before peeking at him from between her fingers.

"I think I'll take you up on that drink now."

–

"I think I'm the asshole," Anna whined into her rocks glass, raising the rim to her lips and tipping back the rest of her Old Fashioned with determination. The liquor burned as it slid down her throat and she aahhh'd when the fire hit her belly. She had asked for a Cosmopolitan first, then an Amaretto Sour, but apparently this wasn't that kind of bar, judging by the look the bartender had given her when she asked for each. She was pretty sure her "Old Fashioned" was just whiskey and the contents of a sugar packet with a splash of Mountain Dew, anyway.

"Where are we, Kristoff?" Anna asked, looking around. The place was dim, dingy, and dirty, full of working class people who were either just coming from work, on their way to work, or in between shifts.

"The Bronx," Kristoff answered, tipping back his own drink. It was a light, cheap beer of some sort, and the golden liquid bubbled and foamed inside its amber bottle. "Figured it would be the best place for your self-pity party."

"Like… the Bronx?" Anna had lived in New York her entire life and had never been to the Bronx. But she'd heard stories, having grown up mostly in the West Village, with occasional extended stays upstate in Rochester and at her family's coastal home in Massachusetts. But those trips had stopped when her parents died, and she hadn't left Manhattan since.

"You live here?"

"Nah," Kristoff shook his head. "I live in Queens."

She'd been to Queens before. She knew Queens.

Kristoff finished the last swig of his beer before setting it back on the bartop. He noticed her empty glass as well and gestured to the bartender. "You want another drink?"

Anna wasn't normally much of a drinker, but she deserved it today.

Right? Right.

"Sure," she agreed, feeling lightheaded already. Kristoff indicated "two" with his fingers, and within minutes they each had a fresh, full beverage before them.

"Are you allowed to drink in your uniform?" Anna asked, cocking her head and gesturing to Kristoff, who was still covered head-to-toe in his UPS regalia.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I dunno, isn't that like a public relations thing? Like, people are going to see you drinking and think you're blitzed when you deliver their mail."

Kristoff laughed then, a full, resonating, belly laugh, and Anna was entranced by the sound. An involuntarily, but genuine, smile spread across her cheeks for perhaps the first time all day.

"You got me," Kristoff admitted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Since you've got me all figured out, what do you do for work?"

"I'm a proofreader-slash-editor," Anna said less-than-proudly. "I have a good eye for details. I actually went to school for hospitality and event planning, because I was really, really great at thinking of all the small stuff and situations that could pop up in advance and planning for them."

"Then why are you in publishing now?"

Anna scrunched her face. "Family business. I couldn't leave my sister to the wolves to run it alone."

She took a sip of her drink. "Plus, I'm super disorganized. Like, really bad. I'd be a terrible event planner. I lose stuff all the time. It's one thing if it's an article here or a transcript there, because we have digital copies and someone can always reprint them, but to try to manage multiple events and vendors and reservations and checks and paperwork– God, it'd be a disaster."

Kristoff chuckled. "If anything, that's the one thing I'm good at."

"What is?"

"Logistics. Being organized. As a mail carrier, I have to know what goes where and when. Everything has to be in order and easy accessible."

"And you can never be late," Anna pointed out. Her voice had begun to slur slightly and she realized she was beginning to feel buzzed.

"That's true," Kristoff agreed with a nod, taking a swig from his bottle.

"I'm always late. Late, late, late. For everything. Doesn't matter what it is, I can just never get there on time." She swallowed hard. "I was even late for my own parents' funeral."

Her face fell and her lips pouted slightly, the corners of her mouth turning downward. Maybe it was the alcohol taking effect, but Kristoff was almost enticed to kiss each of those tantalizing corners, to press his lips to the little dips where her mouth turned, but he banished the thought from his mind.

It's just the beer talking, he told himself. After all, they'd both had a couple drinks already– though he wasn't usually a lightweight, by any means.

"I am the asshole here, aren't I?" Her eyes looked to his, but she didn't see any judgement there.

"I don't think you're an asshole," he murmured, sincerely. "A little feisty, maybe. But not an asshole."

Anna hmm'd, considering his words before grumbling: "Besides, I wasn't the one who was late for lunch today– he was."

When the tab came, on a narrow strip of old school yellow receipt paper, Kristoff pulled his worn, black leather wallet out of his back pocket without hesitation, counted out a few wrinkled bills, and dropped them on the bartop before turning to Anna, who was watching him with a look he couldn't decipher.

"Ready to go?"

Blinking and slow to react, Anna nodded, eyeing the money on the counter once more before standing and following him out.


	5. Chapter 5

_Please don't stand so close to me  
I'm having trouble breathing_

 _I'm afraid of what you'll see right now_

 _Christina Perri, "Distance"_

—

"Here it is," Kristoff announced with sardonic celebration as he swung open the door to his apartment. "It isn't much, but it's home."

Anna gingerly stepped through the door, cautiously taking everything in. The entryway opened directly into the kitchen, which consisted of a few beat-and-battered oak cabinets topped with creamy linoleum counters, and an off-white stove with matching microwave and fridge, the latter of which was making an awfully noisy whirring sound that made Anna's skin crawl. Kristoff pounded his fist on the side of it once and the noise sputtered, then ceased.

The walls were all exposed brick and the scuffed, scratched, and stained floors looked like original hardwood; when Anna looked to the ceiling she could see the exposed copper pipes and aluminum ducts that ran from one unit and into the next.

Just beyond the kitchen was a tiny living area, with a beige loveseat that dipped on one side from years of use, and an earthy green reclining armchair that had some of the polyester stuffing coming out of a hole in its armrest. A decently-sized flat-screen television was tucked into the corner on a wooden stand, the shelves of which were filled with a variety of DVDs and gaming consoles, and beside that was a guitar with a gleaming wooden finish leaning against the wall. Beyond the window she could see a wrought iron fire escape, and she wanted to climb out onto it to have a glass of wine and watch the city below, just like she'd seen in so many movies growing up.

It was a quaint place, but clean and cozy, and Anna immediately felt at ease being there.

It was then that something large and brown and furry barreled around the corner, jumping up with two paws on Anna's front and shoving her backwards from the brute force of its weight hurtling forward into her.

"Sven!" Kristoff barked. "Down, buddy!"

The dog obliged, licking Anna's cheek once for good measure before he bowed down and rubbed his side against Kristoff, panting and thumping his tail against the wall in excitement.

"Sorry, I should've told you I had a dog. Do you like dogs?"

"I'm not sure," Anna replied, more curiously than fearfully. "We were never allowed to have them growing up because my parents wanted to protect Elsa."

"You've never had a pet?"

Anna smiled. "Now that I've moved out I have a cat. A fluffy white one named Olaf."

She reached out a hand and Sven licked it, his bushy tail wagging even more frantically.

"He's a Newfoundland," Kristoff told her as he knelt to ruffle the animal's neck. "They used to be trained as rescue dogs in the mountains, for when people had sledding accidents and fell through the ice and stuff."

Anna hummed. "He's beautiful."

Kristoff stood to face her and Sven trotted off, taking his place up on the green armchair, spinning around a few times before lying down.

"You must be hungry." It was more of a statement than a question.

Anna shrugged, her face sheepish. "I am a little bit."

Kristoff moved past her and to the fridge, opening it and peeking inside to take stock of their options.

"I have some leftover pizza, some beer, a couple apples."

Anna scrunched her face. "Do you like Chinese?"

–

An hour later they were snuggled into their respective sides of the loveseat, each digging into their respective containers of takeout; shrimp fried rice for Anna, and beef and broccoli with a side of chicken lo mein for Kristoff. Sven was fast asleep, curled up in his armchair, having already polished off his own plate of almond boneless chicken with gravy and white rice.

They were watching some historical-comedy miniseries on Netflix about Norwegian vikings, but Anna found it hard to pay attention, all of her focus centered on maintaining the distance between herself and the handsome man sitting beside her. He had changed out of his UPS uniform and into heather gray sweatpants and a graphic tee with some hockey franchise logo printed on the front of it. He hadn't closed the door to his bedroom when he had left her to change, however, and so Anna had inadvertently caught a glimpse of him in nothing but his boxers, the wide expanse of his strong, toned back beckoning to her as she forced herself to tear her eyes away.

He sat with his knees spread and large feet flat on the floor, gobbling up his food as his eyes fixated on the screen, occasionally pushing his shaggy blonde hair out of his face by running his fingers back through his locks, the muscles in his arms bulging and rippling with the movement each time.

"This is nice," Anna said suddenly, breaking the silence. She wasn't looking at him but Kristoff noticed the blush forming on her cheeks. "I don't have many friends. Or, any friends, really. So I never get to just… hang out like this."

Kristoff slurped up a forkful of noodles, speaking with his mouth full: "You don't hang out with your fiance?"

Anna bit the inside of her cheek and her gaze trailed downward, analyzing a miniscule pink shrimp nestled in her rice. "Not really. Hans doesn't like watching T.V., and he likes Chinese food even less– he's really picky and usually only likes to eat good quality, expensive, organic foods. We do go out sometimes, to the clubs and stuff, but…"

"But what?" Kristoff pressed, feeling somewhat desperate to know. He wanted to know. To know more about Anna, more about how her relationship was falling apart.

 _Was he beginning to care?_

Anna inhaled and exhaled slowly; the truth was hard for her to get out.

"When we go out, it's like… I don't even exist."

Kristoff nodded in understanding, willing her with his eyes to continue.

"When we first met, I felt like the center of his universe," Anna murmured sadly, staring into her takeout container. "We had so much in common. We clicked immediately. In fact, we got engaged the same night we met."

"Wait," Kristoff started, holding up a hand. "You got engaged to someone you just met that night?"

Anna nodded. "Yes. I spent the first three years of university living at home with my sister, so when I was finally able to move out and enjoy college life on my own, I went to my first real college party. That's where we met."

" _Hang on._ " Kristoff shook his head and straightened up in his seat, leaning towards her. "You mean to tell me, you got _engaged_ to someone you just met _that night?_ "

"Yes," Anna huffed impatiently. "Pay attention."

"Didn't your parents ever warn you about strangers?"

Anna narrowed her eyes at the blonde-haired man and scooted an inch to the right, further away from him. " _Yes_ , they did. But Hans wasn't a stranger. I felt like I had known him my whole life."

Her eyes turned sad. "It was true love."

"'Was?'"

It took Kristoff too long to notice that Anna had started crying, sniffling, the tears rolling down her face and leaping off of her chin to land in her fried rice. He really was terrible with people.

"Oh, Anna, please don't cry."

His words had the opposite effect and a choked sound escaped from her, racking her small body.

"I used to be so sure that I loved him, but now, when I look at him, it's like I feel _nothing_ ," Anna sobbed, wiping at her eyes. "It's like the sparks aren't there– if they ever were."

Kristoff found that he hated the sight of her upset more than anything, and it nagged at him, tugging at his heartstrings. Although he didn't know her very well, a girl as personable and feisty as Anna didn't deserve to be so unhappy; she deserved happiness and love as much as anyone else, but he wasn't sure what he could do to ease her pain.

He could kiss her. Could lean forward just a little further and close the gap between them...

"Kristoff?" Her voice was a question, full of fright, and when he opened his eyes he saw her own wild blue irises staring back at him, like a doe caught in a hunter's trap. Her knuckles were white from the effort of gripping the couch cushions as she leaned away from him, her hair dangling over the edge of the armrest. He hadn't even realized he had drifted so close to her face.

"I'm sorry," Kristoff apologized, retracting back to his side of the loveseat. "I shouldn't have– if you want to go home, I'll take you home right now."

Most guys would just offer to call a cab, if they offered anything at all. This was not lost on Anna.

Anna shook her head. "No, I don't want to go home. Even _this_ is better than there right now."

Kristoff winced at her accidental, backhanded insult, but he didn't let his hurt show.

"Besides," Anna sniffled, straightening up in her seat. "You're being incredibly sweet by letting me stay here and chill with you. I'd feel terrible if I made you drive me all the way across the city right now just because I'm a big crybaby."

"Yeah, that would really make you an asshole."

A smile broke out across Anna's face and she laughed, picking up her chopsticks to snap them at him in retaliation for cheering her up when she was supposed to be wallowing in self-pity.

–

Halfway through a documentary on glaciers, Kristoff turned to Anna to make a comment when he realized that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He took a moment to watch her, face peaceful in slumber, her shallow breaths ghosting across his neck and rustling the ends of his hair. He had to admit to himself that she was pretty– _very_ pretty– her skin peachy and young and smooth, with an adorable smattering of light freckles across the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her thin, rosy lips pursed slightly in sleep, and her long, dark lashes fanned out from along her closed eyelids, teasing the tops of her cheekbones.

Moving carefully so as not to wake her, Kristoff shifted and laid Anna down with her head on the arm rest. He reached down and brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear before pulling the afghan from the back of the couch and covering her with it. He hesitated a moment before leaning down and pressing a brief, chaste kiss to her forehead, the scent of her strawberry shampoo wafting to his nose.

An emotion washed over him that he couldn't name, making him lightheaded, and so he turned and trudged to his room, stealing one last look back at the sleeping woman in his living room before clicking off the lights.

–

 **BTW, Norsemen is a real show on Netflix. Watch it. It's kinda funny. /shamelessplug**


	6. Chapter 6

_All I knew this morning when I woke  
Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before_

 _Taylor Swift, "Everything Has Changed"_

—

Bright sunlight filtered in through the dusty, paneled windowpanes, and the smell of something delicious wafted to Anna's nose.

The young woman was disoriented when she opened her eyes, but soon enough memories of the previous day flooded back to her and she remembered where she was; she must've fallen asleep while they were watching Netflix. She was used to waking up alone, as Hans was usually long gone by the time she awoke, but a small part of her had been hoping that she would have woken up still leaning against the firm, warm softness of Kristoff beside her on the sofa.

Anna sat up, her body sore from sleeping on the old loveseat, and peeked over the back of it to see Kristoff in the kitchen.

"Morning," the blonde man greeted when he noticed her mussed auburn hair poking up from the sofa. His own unbrushed hair was adorably chaotic, and he was still dressed in his hockey tee and sweatpants, the soft fabrics rumpled from sleeping in them. "I hope you're hungry. I'm not much of a cook but I make a _mean_ breakfast."

Anna's stomach growled. "I'm _starving_."

She rose from the couch and tried to smooth her shirt and joggers as best as she could, but the material of each was thin and wrinkled much too easily. Apparently she had spilled some food on herself as well, evident by the big yellow grease spot on the front of her blouse, right next to the coffee stain. She must've looked a sight.

"I guess I can have some breakfast before I commit to my walk of shame," she said sourly.

Kristoff laughed, a jovial laugh, and it mingled in the air along with the sounds of bacon sizzling and the spatula scraping against the edges of the skillet. Sven sat obediently at his master's feet in front of the stove, beady eyes begging silently for a handout.

"Is it still a walk of shame if nothing happened?" he asked, tone light.

Anna shrugged. "Honestly, I wouldn't know."

"You might fit in some of my clothes," Kristoff started, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Wait here."

Five minutes later Anna stepped out of his bathroom and back into the kitchen as she rolled up the sleeves of the oversized navy-blue flannel he had given her to change into. It reached nearly to her knees, and by reusing her skinny, brown leather belt by cinching it around her waist with an editor knot, and styling her hair up in a messy bun, she looked as though she were making a purposeful fashion statement.

"How do I look?" she asked sultrily when she emerged, twirling in a circle as though she were modeling on a runway.

Kristoff gulped as he scanned her up and down. "You look… great, actually."

"This is like a real, legit flannel shirt," Anna said observantly, taking a seat at the counter. "Like from R.E.I. You some kind of outdoorsman or something?"

Kristoff grunted his affirmation, his back turned to her as he continued to work on the stovetop. "I love the outdoors. If I didn't work so much I'd be up in the Catskills every weekend."

"Oh, then you'd _love_ my family's lodge upstate in the Adirondacks."

Anna slammed her fists on the countertop then, excited by a sudden burst of genius. "You should come with us to the Cape for Labor Day!"

"The Cape? Like, Cape Cod?"

Anna nodded. "It's _gorgeous_ out there. We have a place right on the water, and it's a huge lot so our nearest neighbors are like a hundred yards away on either side, but the tree cover is so thick you can hardly notice them anyway. _And_ we have a private beach that stretches for _miles_."

Kristoff couldn't deny that he was interested in her proposal, but he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Wouldn't that be sort of… inappropriate?"

"Nonsense." Anna dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "Elsa and I haven't been there in years, but we wanted to commit to restarting our parents' old traditions, especially now that she's going to be running the company and such. We used to have employees and random friends of the company out there all the time. You'd just be another guest."

"But what about your _fiancé?_ "

Anna bounced her shoulders in indifference. "What about him? He hasn't even called or texted me."

She clicked her iPhone screen on where it sat on the counter and picked it up, flashing the device at him for confirmation. Sure enough, the screen was devoid of any notifications, leaving her wallpaper photo of Olaf the white cat curled up in a windowsill unobstructed.

"Speaking of Hans…" Anna sighed, sliding off of her stool. "I should run home and grab my things while he's at work."

Saying such a phrase out loud made the inevitability of their split feel all too real and Anna's gut clenched with tragic disappointment.

Kristoff, seemingly unaffected by her words, divvied up the eggs and bacon and scooped them from the skillet onto two plates. "Where does he work?"

"The New York Stock Exchange," Anna answered, the tiniest hint of pride leaking into her voice; her fiance's profession had always been a bit of a bragging point for her in certain social circles, like he was some sort of money-savvy, "Wolf of Wall Street" type. "He trades stocks."

Kristoff looked at her quizzically. "Anna, the exchange isn't open on Saturdays."

The blue-eyed woman blinked. "What?"

Letting out a rush of air from his lungs, Kristoff leaned back against the counter awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair, giving her a pitiful look. "Yeah. The market isn't open for trading on weekends."

"But, then… what..."

Anna's stomach lurched. If Hans wasn't at work, then where was he?

And why did he lie to her?

She bit her lip and Kristoff moved towards her, his voice low and sympathetic.

"Does he work every Saturday?"

Anna shook her head, and Kristoff could almost see the gears turning in her mind as she processed this new information. "Not always, but he's been working weekends more and more since I've gotten busier planning the wedding."

She huffed then. "If _working_ is what he's even doing."

"Do you think he's cheating on you?" Kristoff's tone was grim.

"No," Anna replied instinctively, defensively, then reconsidered. "Possibly. God, I don't even know."

She willed herself to cry, but no tears would come. If anything, she just felt calm. At peace. Content. Standing in Kristoff's kitchen, wearing his clothes, talking to him... cheating fiance or not, it somehow felt _right_ to be there, spilling her personal business, with this man she had only just met.

To Anna, it was an absolutely terrifying feeling.

 _What the hell was she doing?_

"I– I should go," she stammered, hurriedly picking up her purse and grabbing at the flannel shirt. "Do you mind if I give this back to you next week? I'll have it laundered for you."

"Sure," Kristoff conceded. Anna noticed that he seemed apprehensive to let her go, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. "Do you want to stay for breakfast, at least?"

He gestured towards the steaming plates on the counter and Anna felt a stab of guilt, but she knew she wouldn't be able to eat a single morsel anyway.

"I'm sorry, I can't… I shouldn't." Her face fell in shame but she offered him a small smile. "But thank you. For everything. You really are very sweet."

Kristoff nodded, masking his disappointment. When he looked back up into her eyes, he was giving her a smile to match her own. "See you around."

"Yeah. See you."

Anna walked past Kristoff to make her way to the door. Upon reaching it she steeled her will, turned the knob, and stepped out into the musty hallway, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she closed the door behind her without looking back.

She was supposed to have a dress fitting scheduled for noon, but she had an inkling that she'd be missing it in favor of heading to Elsa's for some sisterly bonding time instead.

–

 _Knock knock knock._

"Come in," Anna shouted without looking up from the paper she was scribbling on. Her strawberry-blonde hair fell in her face as she worked, cascading over and around the collar of her sage-green dress shirt. She had hit her workload hard and fast the Monday following her night with Kristoff, desperate for something– _anything_ – to distract her from her warring thoughts that alternated between the handsome UPS guy and her possibly-cheating, possible ex-fiance.

Kai entered, grasping an innocuous white envelope.

"Oh, Kai," Anna greeted him with a smile in her voice. "What can I do you for?"

 _Whoa,_ she thought, catching herself off guard. _Isn't that what Kristoff says? Weird._

The steel-faced man pulled the door shut behind him– he _never_ shut her door. Intrigued, Anna dropped her pen and sat up a little straighter, focusing her attention on Kai.

"What's up?"

Kai swallowed with difficulty as he made his way over to Anna's desk from across the room, setting the envelope down cautiously before her, as though it would burst into flames if he wasn't careful.

"This piece of mail got mixed in with the proofs you gave me. Remember when you said you bumped into the mail carrier?"

Anna nodded, her apprehension growing. Kai continued speaking.

"I didn't notice it until now– it must've fallen out of the pile and slipped into a crack between my desk and the wall, but when I pulled it out… I saw…"

Without further explanation, Kai pointed to the front of the envelope: the forwarding address was marked out to the attention of Alan Duke, the managing editor at Weselton House– Arendelle Publishing's single largest competitor and rival in the industry.

As for the return address, printed clear as day, Anna could see that the sender was her own sister.

" _Elsa_ ," Anna breathed out in shock; it was more of a question than a statement. Picking up the envelope in both hands, she looked to Kai for answers. "What kind of correspondence could she _possibly_ be having with Weasel Town?"

Kai shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea myself. I didn't open it. I thought I'd bring it to your attention first. Perhaps it's some sort of misunderstanding."

Making a hasty, split-second decision, Anna tore the flap of the envelope open with her fingertip, pulling out the folded documents inside. The packet was fat, at least twenty or more pages thick. The first page was a letter, typed out on Elsa's own official letterhead, and addressed to "The Duke" himself.

 _Mr. Duke–_

 _Enclosed you will find documents confirming Arendelle Publishing's schedule for the fourth quarter for all of our 164 publications and flagship branches, including print dates, exclusives, and planned content._

The rest of the letter and documents continued as such, revealing Arendelle Publishing's innermost trade secrets and business plans; it contained such secretive information that, if such things fell into the wrong hands, it could ruin the company and put them under for good.

"Elsa didn't send this," Anna breathed out. Her heart battered against her ribcage like a trapped bird and her skin had begun to break out into a cold sweat. "She wouldn't."

"I know."

"This stays between us," she stated decisively, definitively, as she stuffed the documents back into their envelope. She threw the entire cursed thing into the bottom drawer of her desk and locked it. "Nothing that has to do with this leaves this room."

"Of course, Anna. You have my word." Kai placed a hand over his heart in a vow. "Who could've done this?"

"I don't know," Anna mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief and biting her lip, chewing the pink flesh anxiously. "But I know someone who might."


	7. Chapter 7

_My father's love was always strong  
My mother's glamour lives on and on  
Yet still inside, I felt alone  
For reasons unknown to me_

 _Lana Del Rey, "Old Money"_

—

Anna waited until nearly six o'clock that evening, long after everyone else had shut down and locked up for the day; even Elsa had left work on time, mumbling something about a charity dinner she needed to make an appearance at.

At 5:49, Anna heard the door on the other side of the floor slide open with a whine, and the sound of heavy footfalls making their way to the UPS drop box. She jumped up from her chair and raced down the hall, cutting Kristoff off at the apex of the cubicle rows.

" _Jesus!_ " he cried out, startled by the petite woman's sudden appearance in front of him. "Anna you scared the _shit_ out of me. What if I was a USPS carrier?"

Anna cocked her head. "Huh?"

"They're federal employees."

She only stared at him blankly.

"They carry guns."

"Oh." She disregarded the annoyed look he shot her. "Anyway, I need your help with something."

Kristoff narrowed his eyes. "With what?"

Her own eyes glinted. "Can I trust you?"

"Sure, you can– _ow!_ "

Anna grabbed him by the hand and dragged him down the hall to her office, closing the door quietly behind them; she was surprisingly strong.

"You have to _swear_ that you won't tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you," she started; they were standing nearly toe-to-toe, close enough to touch, and it put Kristoff on edge. "You have to swear to me that you won't breathe a single _word_."

"Anna, I don't–"

"Swear!"

Kristoff threw his hands up. "Alright, _alright_ , I swear. What's going on? Is it your fiance?"

He secretly hoped that it _was_ about her fiance; that she was about to tell him that the wedding was off and her relationship with Hans was over for good.

 _Damn, dude, get ahold of yourself,_ Kristoff inwardly chided himself. _What a horrible thing to hope for._

Anna chewed the inside of her cheek and twiddled her fingers, wringing them together nervously until she groaned in frustration and hurriedly spit out the words.

" _Someonestryingtoframemysisterforindustrialespionage!_ "

"Come again?"

She repeated herself, slower this time. "Someone's trying to frame my sister for industrial espionage."

Kristoff blinked. "For _what?_ "

Anna bent over, the fabric of her blush-pink pencil skirt rising slightly as it strained against her hips and glutes, and Kristoff prudently averted his eyes; she pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk then and yanked out the envelope, handing it over to Kristoff for him to inspect.

"Someone tried to send this; _from_ Elsa Arendelle, _to_ Mr. Duke at Weselton House. It's full of our company's trade secrets."

The blonde man blinked again, thoroughly confused as he turned the envelope over in his hands. "Who?"

"Our company's biggest competitor," Anna crossed her arms over the chest of her sleeveless white blouse and blew her bangs out of her face. "We call them Weasel Town. This right here is _precisely_ the type of dirty trick they'd try to play."

Kristoff gazed down at the heated young woman standing before him. "You're sure it wasn't just Elsa herself?"

Anna's face darkened. "Of _course_ I'm sure. I'm her sister. I know her better than anyone. Plus–" she pointed out the stamp on the envelope. "She would _never_ lick a stamp. She always has her postage printed and her mail handled by someone else."

Anna reached out and took the envelope back from Kristoff, waving it around in the air in front of him. "Do you remember seeing any letters or parcels similar to this? Either going out or coming in? From Elsa to Weasel Town?"

Kristoff shrugged. "I see a ton of mail every day, Anna. It'd be hard for me to remember anything specific unless it stood out."

"Then, you have to help me find out who tried to send this, Kristoff," Anna begged. " _Please._ "

Kristoff shifted his weight from one foot to another, adjusting and re-adjusting his cap uneasily. "I don't know about this... I really shouldn't get involved."

"Well, _maybe_ I saw you stealing cans of soda from the break room," Anna threatened suddenly, poking a finger into the front of his uniform. "And office supplies. And–"

"Whoa, Anna, I'll help you. Even without the blackmail. Jeez."

Anna's eyes lit up. "You will?" She cleared her throat. "I mean, you will. Cool."

It was then that she noticed that Kristoff was looking at her in a way that made her squirm beneath his gaze.

"What?"

He grinned, a goofy grin that shot a bolt of something hot through the young woman's body, like lightning.

"Nothing, you're just kinda cute when you try to be tough."

"Shut up."

"I'm impressed."

"I'm a princess," she said smugly, crossing her arms. "I always get what I want, one way or another."

Kristoff couldn't help but grin like an idiot around her. She really was the most feisty and passionate person he had ever met. It was almost… _endearing_.

"I'm sure you do."

"Meet me at the Four Seasons later." She scribbled down an address and her phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. "It's only a couple of blocks from here. I'm staying there, and we can come up with a plan then."

–

Kristoff had dressed casually in a pair of white and blue adidas sneakers, dark washed jeans and a two-pocket periwinkle button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but when he walked into the previously agreed upon establishment at the Four Seasons as the clock struck eight, he saw Anna already sitting at the bar and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

She had pulled her hair up into an intentionally messy coiffure, a few stray curls falling loose here and there, the wispy baby hairs at the nape of her porcelain neck teasing the top of her spine. Her dress was a solid, sleeveless black sheath that accentuated every dip and curve of her slim figure, with a deep V-neck that cut over the tops of her breasts and didn't reach a meeting point until it hit the top of her navel, right below her ribs. Her pale, slender legs were bare and smooth, and on her feet she wore strappy, flesh-colored pumps that easily added an extra three or four inches to her height. On her left wrist was a diamond-encrusted, gold-faced watch on a thin silver band.

Kristoff approached with his hands in his pockets, trying to appear aloof and unaffected. "I didn't realize this was a date."

Anna's head snapped up at the sound of his voice and he noticed she was wearing deep scarlet gloss on her lips, making her pout appear even poutier than usual. "It's not."

Kristoff took his seat beside her.

"Is it the outfit? I always dress like this when I go out in public to swanky places like this. God forbid I see anyone here who knew my father looking like I just rolled out of a three-day bender at a frat house."

"At least you're not late," he mused with a smile.

Anna blinked at him before taking a sip of her drink, her expression unreadable. "Neither are you."

Kristoff gestured to the bartender and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. Well liquor in a joint like this must constitute top shelf anywhere else. When his drink arrived and he took an experimental sip, he found that his presumption was correct.

"Anyway, whoever tried to mail that letter must not be very smart."

Anna knitted her brows together, curiosity piqued. "Why do you say that?"

"They tried to mail a USPS parcel by dropping it in the UPS box."

"Oh, then it _definitely_ wasn't Elsa," Anna stated with confidence. "She has the same eye for detail that I do. Maybe even more so. She'd never make a silly mistake like that."

She took a sip of her own drink, something vibrant and pink, and rested the lip of the glass against her mouth, speaking into it as she did so.

"I just can't imagine who it could be. I know it's not Kai, because he brought the letter to me in the first place when I had no idea that it even existed. I was thinking that maybe it could be Gerda, Elsa's secretary, but she's been with the company for so long, even longer than Kai. I can't bring myself to believe that she'd try to dismantle my parents' legacy and betray my sister like that. She's always been like family."

Kristoff swallowed his sip of whiskey and set the glass down on the onyx bartop with a _clink_. "What about the big guy?"

"Oaken?" Anna tilted her chin, considering. "The office manager?"

"Yeah," the blonde man snorted into his glass. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"He's in charge of purchasing office supplies and fulfilling orders, so he _does_ send a lot of mail, but I don't think it's him. He doesn't seem like the espionage, betrayal type. He's too…"

"Simple-minded?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "I was going to say _happy_."

Kristoff twirled his glass around in the air, watching the amber liquid swirl and swish, the ice cubes tinkling against the crystal. "What if it isn't someone within the company at all? What if it's an outsider?"

"But how would they get Elsa's official letterhead? Her office is always locked when she's not there."

Kristoff lifted and dropped his shoulders. "Maybe it's someone who has access to everything, like a custodian or something."

"Perhaps… but only myself and Elsa have access to _her_ office."

Anna knew for a fact that Elsa didn't allow anyone to clean her office except for herself, as she was very particular about which products were used and how, even going as far as to have the lock on her door changed so that only she and Anna had a key. And if anyone had been sneaking in at night to rummage through her personal effects or steal her stationery, Elsa would know; she was obsessive about those things.

Anna let out a groan.

"This is _exactly_ what I needed to deal with on top of my crumbling engagement." Her voice dripped thick with sarcasm. She sighed and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, mussing her bangs. "Everything is so complicated."

Kristoff turned his face towards the strawberry-blonde woman sitting beside him with a sympathetic expression. "The espionage plot or your relationship?"

Anna snorted. "Both. You know the florist wouldn't stop calling me today? I had to keep ignoring the call. I don't know what to tell her."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Can we keep drinking if I do?"

"Sure thing."

–

By Anna's third Cosmo and Kristoff's fourth whiskey, they had somehow gotten onto the topic of each other's families.

"You're adopted?"

"Yeah," Kristoff hummed, his eyes taking on a nostalgic haze. "I'll spare you the tragic backstory, but I was in the foster care system until I was eight years old. That's when Cliff and Bulda scooped me up."

"They must be wonderful."

He nodded in agreement. "They're the best parents I could ever ask for."

"Where do they live?"

"They're retired now, so they moved up north, to a small rural town in the Catskills about an hour outside Albany. They always loved the mountains there. We went camping often when I was a kid."

Anna's eyes went wide. "Albany? That's so far from the city. Don't you miss them?"

"I still see them every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas."

Kristoff polished off the rest of his drink in a final chug, setting the empty glass aside and sighing contentedly.

"You know, I was wondering, why don't you try to talk to your sister about this whole thing? Maybe she'd have an idea of what's going on."

Anna exhaled sharply. " _Nooo_. No, no, no. No way. She's got way too much on her plate already. I can't drop this on her."

"You're a good sister," Kristoff hummed. There was a smile to his voice that made Anna's face warm.

"I have to be," she replied delicately. "We only have each other. It's been just the two of us since my parents' passed away."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, it's not _okay_ okay, but… you learn to live with it."

A pensive look crossed Anna's features then as she gazed into her martini glass.

"This must be what real dating is like," she murmured to no one in particular.

Her turquoise eyes snapped up then to bore into Kristoff. "How many girls have you dated?"

He blushed. "Uh, I took a girl to prom to in high school once."

Anna's mouth dropped open.

"You've never been in a serious relationship?"

"I don't like people," Kristoff grumbled, mindlessly pushing around the condensation from his glass on the bartop with a fingertip. "Work in customer service long enough and you'll understand why."

Anna waggled her eyebrows playfully. "You like me, though."

"Yeah." Both his voice and his expression softened. "I like you."

When the bill came, Kristoff reached for it before she could even try, and spent some time staring at the number printed in black ink at the bottom.

"Forget your wallet?" Anna joked.

Kristoff shook his head. "No, I have my wallet, this is… these drinks were more expensive than I thought. I'm sorry, I don't have enough money to cover it all. Do you want to go Dutch?"

"'Go Dutch?' What's that?"

"Split it."

His honesty and willingness to put himself on equal footing with Anna surprised her. Hans had never even offered to split the tab, let alone cover the entire thing.

"Oh, no. Don't worry about it," she said, offering him a sincere smile as she plucked the check from his grasp. "I'll get it."

"You sure?" Kristoff's shoulders were visibly tense.

"Of course. I can just charge it to my room. I'm serious, don't worry about it. I still owe you for the bar the other night, anyway."

"You got the Chinese food, though."

Anna thought for a moment. "You're right. You can just get the next one after this, then."

Kristoff's shoulders relaxed. "Okay. I got you next time."

She said there would be a next time; he hoped she meant it.


	8. Chapter 8

_Let me inside, no cause for alarm  
I promise tonight not to do no harm  
I promise you, baby, I won't do you no harm_

 _Brandon Flowers, "Crossfire"_

—

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit is right," Anna agreed in jest as she tossed her key card on the vanity counter just inside the doorway.

Kristoff was awestruck and he let out a low, appreciative whistle as he took in the extravagance of Anna's room at the Four Seasons: the floor-to-ceiling windows that featured incredible views of the city at night; the enormous flat-screen LED television mounted on the wall; the baby grand piano tucked into the corner; the gigantic king-sized bed topped with a down comforter and tons of fluffy white pillows; the expansive bathroom with marble countertops and a waterfall bathtub easily big enough for two people.

The suite could fit his entire apartment inside it– five times over.

Half an hour later they were sitting on the floor in front of the windows, swigging champagne straight from a bottle Anna had taken from the mini fridge and playing with a deck of cards Kristoff had found in a nightstand drawer. The clock beside the bed read _1:04_.

"Go fish."

" _Ugh_." Anna tossed her cards to the floor in front of her. "I'm sick of this game."

Kristoff dropped his own hand. "Well, we have cards and booze. We could play Waterfall."

Anna retched.

"What about 'Never Have I Ever?'" he suggested instead.

She reached for the bottle of champagne before replying. "What's that?"

"It's a game you play while drinking," Kristoff started, scooting forward, a few inches closer to Anna. "Everyone holds up five fingers on one hand and goes around saying something they've never done. If you've done that thing, then you put a finger down."

He demonstrated by holding up his hand and lowering his index finger. "First person to put all of their fingers down loses the game."

He made a fist.

Anna shrugged, down for anything and confident with liquor. "Sounds easy enough."

"Alrighty then– you can go first, Princess." Kristoff leaned back and held up a hand, palm forward; Anna mimicked the gesture.

"Never have I ever…" Anna trailed off, looking around the room for inspiration. "I dunno… gone skinny dipping."

Kristoff put a finger down and narrowed his eyes.

"Never have I ever gotten engaged to someone I just met."

" _Ouch_ , low blow." Her smile was wry.

"I like to play dirty."

It was Anna's turn to narrow her eyes and she cocked her head at the man sitting across from her. "You want to play dirty? Fine. Never have I ever looked at porn."

Kristoff's mouth popped open. "Never?"

" _Never_."

He lowered another finger.

"Never have I ever given a blowjob."

"That's not fair," Anna whined. "You're a guy."

The blonde man lifted and dropped his shoulders. "I don't judge."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because I've never done that either." All of her final four fingers stayed up.

"Damn."

She stuck her tongue out at him. He had only three fingers remaining.

"Never have I ever been to a _gentleman's club_."

Kristoff smirked then, keeping all three fingers up.

"You seem to believe that I'm some sort of sexual deviant, don't you?" he asked.

"Aren't all men?"

He snorted, but didn't answer, instead moving on to take his turn. "Never have I ever fooled around in my sibling's bed."

This caused Anna to burst into a fit of giggles. "You don't even have a sibling!"

"But _you_ do."

Anna laughed even harder. "Oh my God, she'd _kill_ me."

Kristoff found that he very much enjoyed the sound of her laugh.

"My turn," Anna said, settling down as her giggles subsided. She felt dizzy from the champagne that bubbled in her stomach. "Never have I ever had sex in the shower."

Kristoff lowered a finger and gave her a devilish grin. "You should try it sometime."

"That good, huh?"

Kristoff's thoughts flicked to the giant shower he had seen in the in-suite bathroom and gave Anna a knowing look that made her tingle from her head to her toes.

Unfazed, the auburn-haired woman soldiered on with their game. "Never have I ever measured my penis."

"You're cheating." Kristoff lowered his finger. "Plus, you just took your turn."

Anna's blue eyes lit up with curiosity. "So, how big is it?"

"I could show you."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"An offer." His eyes focused on her. When Anna didn't reply, he answered: "Seven and three quarters."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Centimeters?"

"Inches."

"Jesus."

"Do you think that's big?"

"Bigger than Hans." Anna felt herself blush at the admission. "Anyway, it's your turn."

"Never have I ever had sex while I was at a party."

Anna's expression faltered, darkening, and she lowered a finger. The small victory was bittersweet for Kristoff.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he mumbled with regret, rubbing the back of his head. "Don't tell me it was the same party you and Hans met at."

The redheaded woman chewed her lower lip, working the flesh between her teeth until it was red and plump. "It wasn't how I ever imagined my first time would go, but… it's funny how life happens, hm?"

She tried to smile but it fell flat.

Kristoff's voice was gentle. "How did you imagine it?"

Anna leaned back on her free hand and gazed at the ceiling. "The usual romantic 'girl stuff,' I guess. Candles, flowers, wine… a bed. Someone I'm in love with, who's also in love with me."

She felt her eyes moisten and blinked a couple times to keep herself from crying.

"Never have I ever been in love." His timbre cracked on the final syllable; it was so subtle, that Anna wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been paying attention.

But she hesitated. Why did she hesitate? Perhaps a few seconds too late, she lowered a finger. If Kristoff noticed, he didn't show it.

She was tipsy and ready for this game to be over; it was time to get Kristoff out. And maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying the topics a bit too much to be considered proper.

"Never have I ever… slept with more than one person."

Kristoff's eyes widened. "At the same time?"

"Christ, no," Anna laughed. "Like, ever in my life."

Kristoff lowered his final finger, making a fist before resting his hand in his lap.

"You've only had sex with one person?"

" _One_ ," Anna reiterated, wagging her finger. Having confessed something so personal made her face and body warm. Or maybe it was the booze.

Kristoff's own expression fell, his face darkening. "Hans was your first?"

"My only." Anna shrugged half-heartedly. "But I don't really like sex. Or at least, I don't think I do. Maybe I would…"

 _With the right person._

Anna was surprised at herself for the thought, though it rang true. But if she and Hans were compatible in every other aspect, did the sex (or lack thereof) even matter?

 _Were_ they compatible to begin with?

When she looked at her companion again, Kristoff's eyes were dark, and his voice was low, deathly serious when he spoke.

"We should fix that."

Anna's breath hitched in her throat.

"Fix… it?"

She couldn't speak a full sentence when Kristoff rose from the floor, reaching out and taking her by the hand to lift her with him. She stood facing him, her heart racing at the sight of his warm brown eyes boring into hers, aware of nothing but the desirous look in his gaze and the smell of whiskey on his breath. His hand came up, gingerly, and brushed across her cheek as delicately as possible, his fingertips making their way over the edge of her mouth as he turned his hand to brush his knuckles along her throat, moving to tangle his fingers in the hair behind her ear. She trembled beneath his touch and her eyes fluttered closed, finding herself wanting nothing more in that moment than for him to kiss her, to take her, to make her his and his alone right then and there.

His hands found her sides, drawing down to the hem of her dress and pushing up with his palms, bunching the stretchy material up over her hips and settling around her waist, resting his fingers in the pile of fabric there, her bare thighs and lacy black thong revealed to him.

Guiding her backwards, he carefully led her to the bed before laying her down upon it, climbing on top of her body as he took each of her wrists in his massive hands and pinned them above her head. Anna was enchanted, hypnotized, unable to tear her eyes away from his, her chest heaving up and down from the effort of her erratic breathing. He leaned down, hovering his mouth over hers, his hot breath ghosting over her lips, and she waited for him to kiss her; instead, he turned downward to place a kiss on the firm roundness of the exposed part of her breast, before dipping his tongue into her cleavage. Anna involuntarily whimpered at the sensation and his face snapped back up to hers, like an animal hunting his prey, playing with his food.

"Anna." His voice was hoarse, scratchy and raw with need. His gaze travelled from her eyes to her mouth and back again, and Anna was suddenly afraid of his kiss.

When he leaned down then, towards her face, Anna's eyes widened in fear and she quickly turned her head to the side, causing his lips to brush her cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling the tears from earlier threaten to resurface as Hans' visage flashed across her mind. "I can't. I can't."

Kristoff pulled back. "Don't be sorry."

The room began to tilt and she squeezed her eyes shut; she felt when the mattress shifted as his weight was removed from it and the motion made her nauseous. Her head spun and water leaked from her closed eyes, dampening her lashes.

 _I can't..._

–

 **I love when my babies play drinking games. Hush. #favoritetrope #dontkinkshameme**


	9. Chapter 9

_Would things be easier if there was a right way?_

 _Honey, there is no right way_

 _Hozier, "Someone New"_

—

Elsa stormed into the hotel room, dressed sharply in a white pantsuit with dark blue boots and matching gloves, her silvery hair styled in a fishtail braid down her back that swung like a pendulum from the force of her steps.

Kristoff woke up first, startled awake by the slam of a door and the sound of heels clicking across the floor and a feminine voice shouting Anna's name.

"Anna, I've called you forty-seven times, you either better be dead or have a good excuse for–"

The woman jumped with a gasp when she noticed Kristoff sitting up in the bed, staring at her. Beside him was Anna, fast asleep atop the covers, still dressed in her clothes from the previous evening.

"Who are you?" she snapped, covering her abdomen with her arms wrapped about herself, as though the limbs were armor and would protect her from any harm should he try to attack her.

"Kristoff Bjorgman."

Elsa's unchanged expression indicated that his name didn't ring any bells.

"The UPS guy."

"Oh," she softened, the tension in her shoulders easing as she recognized him, but her tone was still stinging and accusatory. "Why are you here in bed with my sister?"

"It's a long story," Kristoff sighed. "But nothing happened between us."

"Wha' happened?" Anna groaned as she sat up next to Kristoff, holding a hand to her temple.

" _Nothing_ happened," the blonde man reiterated.

"I don't care if anything happened or not," Elsa snipped, moving to the side and throwing the curtains open to another groan from Anna as the influx of bright sunlight fried her tender retinas. "The last thing I need right now is for anyone to recognize Princess Anna of Arendelle Publishing traipsing to a Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons with the mailman when she has a _fiancé_."

" _Had_ a fiancé," Anna mumbled, sliding out of bed and reaching for a glass of water on the nightstand.

Elsa gave her sister a sympathetic look. "You know I don't like Hans. Not one bit. But if you're going to make it work, then _make it work_. If you're not going to make it work, then end it already. You can't slide in the middle like this forever."

She snapped her fingers to get her sister's attention and the redheaded woman visibly recoiled at the sound.

"Make a decision, Anna. You're an adult– act like one."

She turned to Kristoff then, her voice scalding. "As for you, I'd wager a guess that you're probably late for work as well. Better get going."

Kristoff threw his legs over the mattress and stood, albeit a tad wobbly, and picked up his button-down from where it had been left in a rumpled heap on the floor, pulling it on over his white t-shirt. He turned to face Anna with a remorseful expression across his features, one that she reciprocated, shoving his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled jeans.

"I'm sorry about last night."

She pressed her lips into a flat line and averted her eyes.

Elsa followed the burly man's movements with her steely gaze as he left, shutting the door behind him with a _click_. Then she turned to her sister and crossed her arms, a knowing smirk toying at the edges of her mouth.

"I thought nothing happened."

"Nothing _did_ happen," Anna sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she tried to detangle some of the knots. "But I almost regret that we _didn't_ do anything. Is that bad?"

She remembered how Kristoff's dominating advances had turned her on almost instantaneously, even in her inebriated state; the way he took control made her wet between her thighs, made her _crave_ physical affection from him. He had been willing to give it; and yet, she had turned him down.

Elsa pursed her lips. "Are you asking me for a 'big sister' talk?"

" _No_ ," Anna scoffed, moving over to the window. Then, looking sheepish, she turned to her sister. "Yes."

Elsa walked over to the bed and inspected the duvet carefully before sitting upon it, patting the spot next to her for her sister to join her.

"Why haven't you talked to Hans?"

Anna sat down. "How do you know I haven't talked to Hans?"

"Because you're concealing, not feeling." Elsa lifted her brows. "That's _my_ thing. Not yours."

"Everything is so complicated," the younger sister mumbled, echoing her words from the previous night. She fell back until she was on her back on the bed, and Elsa followed suit, laying down beside her sister and turning her head to face her.

"Do you love him?"

"Who? Kristoff?"

Elsa let out a laugh. "No– _Hans_."

"I'm not sure anymore."

"Do you still want to marry him?"

Anna hesitated. "I don't think so. But I've dreamed about this for so long… it doesn't seem right to just throw it all away now over something so stupid."

She turned her own head to face her sister then, blue meeting blue.

"Do you want to get married someday, Elsa?"

Elsa pursed her lips. "This isn't about _me_ , this is about _you_. Besides, I think that ship has sailed for me."

"Nonsense," Anna argued, sitting up to look down at her sister. "It's not too late for you to find love. You're only twenty-five."

"I'm married to my career right now." Elsa sat up. "Plus, I still need to work on myself first, before I bring another person into the picture. I have to be in the right state of mind before I start looking for love."

Anna scrunched her face. "If you think like that, then it'll never happen."

"That's true," the white-haired woman agreed. "You can't force love. It just... _happens_."

"I see what you're trying to do."

Elsa smiled. "I saw the way he looked at you. And the way you looked at him.

"And?"

The elder sister sighed. "You need to figure things out for yourself. I don't have all the answers, Anna. Even if I wished I did, I can't just make them appear out of thin air like magic."

She gestured with a twirl of her gloved hand to emphasize her point.

"You're right, Elsa."

"I'm always right."

"Usually."

Elsa rose then and patted her sister on the arm. "Now, get up and get dressed. We have a board meeting at eleven o'clock."

–

"Are you still planning on coming with us to the Cape?"

The UPS man momentarily stopped his heavy lifting to answer her question. "Your sister seems to be under the impression that it'd be a good idea if we stopped spending so much time together, and I'm afraid I have to agree with her."

It was a little after 5:30 and Anna was leaning on the stack of boxes on Kristoff's truck cart, her chin resting in her hands and tapping the toe of her ballet flat impatiently, flirtatiously, on the floor.

"You don't want to see me anymore?"

Kristoff did his best to shoot her a serious look, ignoring the enticing way she protruded her lower lip out to him in a pout. "Not as long as you still have a fiance."

"I… don't." The redheaded woman drew her lip inward with her teeth and stood up straight.

"Does _he_ know that?" Kristoff asked, rounding on her. He was close enough to kiss, if Anna stood on her tiptoes. "Have you even called him yet? Talked to him?"

Anna reluctantly shook her head.

"It's hard," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, so is _this_ ," the blonde man huffed in response, exasperated.

"So is _what?_ "

After Kristoff had eventually made his way to work following his indirection with Anna's sister walking in on them in such a compromising position, he found himself daydreaming about the quirky, strawberry-haired woman all day long; he remembered the way she had felt beneath his fingertips, her flesh pliable and soft and warm, and he was sure his guilt for thinking such lascivious thoughts in public was written all over his face. It made him think about his previous joke to Anna about whether or not a walk of shame could constitute as such if nothing had happened.

At the very least, if he didn't look shameful, he surely felt it.

Either way, she was engaged or otherwise unavailable to him, and so to entertain any ideas about him ever possibly _being_ with Anna or having his feelings somehow reciprocated was foolish on his part.

Kristoff sighed. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Sooo, you'll come?" Anna sounded hopeful.

A weekend with Anna at her family's fancy coastal home in Massachusetts.

Correction: A weekend with Anna and _her sister_ at her family's fancy coastal home in Massachusetts. As if being caught in bed together once by the elder Arendelle hadn't been mortifying enough to last a lifetime.

Not that there was any chance of himself and Anna ending up in bed together again, right?

And he _would_ enjoy the chance to get out of the city.

Kristoff gazed into Anna's turquoise eyes and sighed again; she held sway over him– somehow, some way.

"Fine, fine. I _guess_ I'll tag along," he conceded, to the delight of Anna, who squealed and hugged him as she jumped up and down excitedly; if he had to admit it to himself, it _was_ sort of an adorable reaction.

But only sort of.


	10. Chapter 10

_I love everything you do  
When you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do  
I wanna ride my bike with you  
Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you  
I'll pull them off for you_

 _Melanie Martinez, "Training Wheels"_

—

Anna re-entered the room, her face grave as she met Kristoff's brown eyes.

"That was Elsa," she informed him, gesturing to the phone in her hand. "She's not going to make it this weekend after all. Too swamped with work. The party is cancelled."

The five-hour drive had been easy, despite the weekend holiday traffic, and they had arrived at the Cape Cod house a little after four o'clock. They had made good time, even after stopping at a kitschy roadside diner for lunch along the way.

Kristoff saw upon first look that calling it a house was an incredible understatement.

The place was nothing short of a mansion, at least three stories tall, and exuded old money with its old-fashioned, coastal New England charm. The entire colonial facade had been painted recently with a fresh coat of white, with marine-blue frames and cobalt shutters and crimson doors, and just beyond the other end of the wraparound porch he could hear the dull roar of ocean waves beating against the beach.

When Anna stepped out of the car and realized that Elsa's own white Lincoln SUV was missing from the drive, she led Kristoff inside to wait in a type of parlor while she wandered off to call her sister.

He drummed his fingers on the wooden table he was sitting at as he gazed around, admiring the vertically-striped yellow wallpaper that covered the room, the exposed wooden beams and ornate crown molding that ran the length ceiling, and the large bay windows that let in a fair amount of the late afternoon light. He had never been in a space so classically _nice_ before. Hung on the far wall he noticed a framed family portrait of a young Anna and Elsa standing side-by-side, flanked by two people who he assumed to be their parents.

He was about to get up to inspect it further, particularly interested in seeing younger Anna's freckled and cherubic face up close, when she came back with her announcement of Elsa's foreseeable absence from the holiday festivities.

"What do we do now?" Kristoff asked rhetorically. It was only Saturday, leaving them with two open days.

"It's just the two of us this weekend, I guess. We've got the place all to ourselves." Anna gave him a lopsided grin. "We can do whatever we want."

She reached out her hand to him.

"Come on. I'll give you a tour."

–

Anna started with the top floor, pointing out the guest rooms, bathrooms, and a lounge. On the second floor, most of which was taken up by a loft overlooking the first floor, she showed him her and Elsa's old rooms and the adjoining bathroom that they had once shared before making their way back down to the ground floor.

"So, this is like… your childhood home?"

"It's more of a vacation home," Anna clarified, pointing out the den to their right as they passed. The door was open just a crack, allowing Kristoff a brief glimpse of the ancient built-in bookcases as he trailed the young woman, as though he were a simply a tourist at a museum and she was the docent. All he was missing was a camera and a fanny pack.

"We'd spend some weekends and summers here growing up. There's my room up ahead."

Anna pulled open the double doors at the end of the hall to reveal an expansive bedroom, with hardwood floors and white walls, furnished with only a black four-poster bed with matching nightstands on either side, a dark blue rug, and a wooden dresser. Beside the entryway was another door, leading to an in-room master bathroom, and across the room were two storm doors, each one made up entirely of a single, framed pane of glass, that opened directly out onto the beach, offering a breathtaking panorama of the ocean and the red-orange sunset sky that burned on the horizon.

"It used to be my parents room," she explained. "But when they caught me sneaking out one too many times they decided to just swap with me, so that I could open the doors and leave whenever I wanted."

Kristoff raised a suggestive brow. He knew why teenagers snuck out. After all, he had been one himself, once. "Sneaking out?"

He imagined a teenage Anna, lanky and fresh-faced and not quite filled out in all the right places yet, sneaking out to swap saliva in the back of a Mercedes with some trust fund prettyboy who wore stuffy suits and played lacrosse and drank Cristal at the country club.

It caused a pang of jealousy to stab through his gut.

"It wasn't like that," Anna laughed, as though she could read his mind. "I would just go to the beach. I loved the water. It was always so serene, so different from the city. I'd sit and watch the waves by myself for hours. They were as restless as I was back then."

She ran a hand across the white coverlet atop the bed, her brows drawn together in concentration. Kristoff watched the emotions that played across her face with great infatuation, enchanted by the way she physiologically responded to the thoughts inside of her own head; he wanted to know what she was thinking.

After a minute of silence, Anna broke her reverie and glanced up at him, lips parted in surprise, as though she had forgotten that she wasn't alone in the room with just her memories.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him. "Let's have dinner."

–

After a simple dinner of angel hair pasta and marinara with a side of vegetables, whipped up by the Princess of Arendelle Publishing herself, they grabbed a pair of stemmed glasses and a bottle of Merlot from the pantry and headed out to the beach through Anna's bedroom.

Everything was awash in dull, gray light, thanks to the full moon that hung on the black curtain of the sky overhead like a silver coin; the hissing ocean was a dark, infinite abyss, and if it weren't for the moonlight that reflected on top of the waves it would have been nearly impossible to tell where the water ended and the heavens began. Being on the populated coast, they couldn't see as many stars as Kristoff had anticipated, but they could definitely still see more than they could back in the city. The nearest houses that Kristoff could actually identify were easily almost a mile away on either side.

Anna plopped down in the soft sand and poured each of them a glass of wine, handing one to Kristoff as he took his spot beside her, facing the sea. The breeze was warm, rustling her wavy hair and the trees behind them in a gentle symphony of whispers, but it held a nip like a warning, foretelling the autumn to come.

The number of times she had sat out here by herself were countless, watching the waves in peaceful loneliness, dreaming of the day she'd finally have somebody to share the view with.

And now, here she was, sharing the view, with the last man she ever expected.

It made her come alive, her heart beating just a little faster and she chugged her wine in one go, a trail of burgundy dribbling down her chin.

Being with Kristoff both unnerved and excited her; she couldn't deny it.

"Hey," she started suddenly, cutting through the silence between them like a blade. "Remember when I told you that I'd never gone skinny dipping?"

Kristoff turned to face her and noticed the slightest glimmer of something mischievous in her expression. Before he could respond, however, Anna was up on her feet, pulling at the tie at the front of her white cotton dress and letting it slip from her body.

She was standing there in all her glory, her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight, stark and proud and bare, wearing nothing but a pair of silky, flesh-colored panties. Before his very eyes, she slipped her fingers beneath the straps and pushed downward and then those were gone, too.

"Last one to the water is a rotten egg!"

She took off in a spray of sand, giving Kristoff an uninhibited view of her gorgeous, round bottom as she ran.

"Come on!" she shouted from over her shoulder, diving forward and disappearing beneath the waves without another look back.

Bewildered, Kristoff chortled to himself and stood, clumsily pulling his shirt over his head with wine-loosened limbs and tossing it to the ground. His khaki shorts went next. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, ready to take the plunge into total public indecency territory, when he realized that he had yet to see Anna resurface from beneath the sea.

He scanned the top of the water, looking for any sign of her orange head bobbing on the waves, but saw nothing. Seconds passed, and then a minute, and… nothing.

A chill ran up his spine.

"Anna?" he called out.

No answer.

When he shouted her name again, louder, and still received no response, he bolted towards the ocean's edge. He paused for a moment, anxiously looking for bubbles or ripples or any sort of indication of life in the cold depths below, before he inhaled sharply and dove in.

Moments later he resurfaced, with the lively, sopping, nude woman in his arms, pulling her out of the water and dragging her up the beach until he felt they were far enough away to be safe from any further danger.

"Kristoff, what the hell?" she sputtered when at last he had set her down on the sand and knelt in front of her on one knee.

The burly man's eyes were wide with fear as he tried to comprehend the situation, his wet hair matting uncomfortably to his forehead, struggling to catch his breath.

"I thought you were– when you didn't resurface right away…"

He thought she had been in distress, torn away by the current, or had possibly even _drowned_ , and he had been _afraid_. A breeze blew by, chilling him to the bone, but he couldn't be sure it was caused by the wind to begin with.

Damn it all, he had been afraid of losing her, and the revelation clutched at his heart, snaking its way in and putting down roots there until it was no more separate from him than the pulse of the blood that coursed through his veins, arrowing to his groin.

He moved forward, crawling over her body until she was leaning back on her elbows as far as she could go, her wet hair swinging behind her as he placed one hand beside her on the sand for leverage and another on her thigh, holding her to the spot as his knee nudged her sex. His eyes darted to her purple-stained lips, to the little dip at the corner where the tiniest drop of sea water had pooled, and licked his own lips eagerly in anticipation, yearning to taste the salty wetness there.

"Kristoff?" Anna's voice trembled, but with desire or fear, she couldn't be sure. She could tell that she was incredibly aroused, the spot between her legs creaming and dampening her inner thighs even further, the heat contrasting against the coolness of the water on her skin. Her nipples peaked and a chill trickled through her body, but it wasn't because of the night air.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of her name leaving her lips and brought his hand up, dragging the rough, dry skin of his knuckles along her side, starting at her hip and making his way upwards to her ribs, her breast, her neck. He stopped at her jaw and stroked gently with his fingertips, stretching his thumb to wipe the wetness from her mouth. The pad of it brushed over her lips and she puckered them instinctively, kissing the digit, entranced by him.

His mouth was on hers then, swallowing her surprised cry as he kissed her hungrily, roughly, desperately. She kissed him back just as passionately, her resistance melting away to free the unbridled, unchecked desire that had been lurking beneath, simmering for some time already. Kristoff swept his tongue inside the moist cavern of her mouth and Anna moaned; she tasted sweet and earthy with a hint of salt, and he felt himself grow harder with each passing second that their tongues danced together, painfully aware that the cold, wet cloth of his boxers was the only and final barrier between them.

With effort and a grunt he tore his mouth away from hers and reached down, taking Anna by the hand and pulling them up to stand together, making a purposeful beeline for the door to Anna's bedroom, her small hand clasped in his larger one the entire way. Their clothes and wine and glasses were left behind in the sand, forgotten and unimportant.

They stumbled together into the room, leaving the doors wide open in their wake, and Kristoff led them to the bed, laying Anna down as he climbed on top of her, kissing her like mad all the way.

When he broke the kiss for air, each of them gasping, he gazed down into her blue eyes and swallowed thickly.

"Anna, do you want to do this?"

She nodded, eagerly and without hesitation.

"Yes, Kristoff."

Reaching up, her lithe fingers tangled in the sodden hair at the nape of his neck, guiding his face down to hers and kissing him before she changed her mind; he pulled his boxers down, freeing his erection to line it up with her sex, their bodies mingling in the sand and sea water that collected on the sheets as the passion between them reached a feverpitch.

When she bucked and whimpered against him, Kristoff gasped. "Wait, we need a–"

He thought about the condom in the pocket of his shorts, left back on the beach; not that he had been _planning_ on anything happening, but damn, he had definitely hoped.

"It's alright," Anna breathed, gripping his shoulders. "I'm on the pill."

Kristoff rubbed the head of his cock against her slick opening, revelling in the delicious way she shuddered at the contact. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he slid into her, letting out a moan and dropping his forehead to hers.

When he pulled back and met her gaze, he could see the discomfort in her eyes; his face must've held a question, because she answered it without him saying anything.

"I'm okay," she managed to bite out through her clenched teeth, gasping as she did so. "It's just... different."

It had been so long since she and Hans had done– well, anything– that she was afraid it would hurt. Plus, Kristoff was bigger than her ex-fiance, in more ways than one. But as she squirmed and Kristoff stilled, she found herself wanting– no, _needing_ – more. She needed him to move.

"I'm not made of china, Kristoff." She jerked her hips slightly, as if to emphasize her point. "If you don't start moving soon, I'm going to kill you."

He pulled out and pushed back in, repeating the motion when she moaned out loud and threw her head back, his hardened member stretching her deliciously to accommodate his girth. To Anna, having him inside her felt absolutely incredible; to Kristoff, being inside her was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

His pace quickly became demanding, his breaths coming in short bursts, taking all that she would give, thrusting in time with her moans and mewls as they came in rapid succession. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his upper back, egging him on, willing him to push her toward some unforeseen destination. It was as though her womb was a coil, winding tighter and tighter until...

"Kristoff, wait–"

Her body spasmed before she could get the words out and she cried out, stars exploding behind her eyes; her back rose off the mattress as strange, unfamiliar waves of pleasure rippled through her, and when she finally came to her senses again, settling back onto the bed, she felt a distinctive warm spot beneath her bottom. Kristoff held her through it all, and when Anna looked down she could see evidence of his own orgasm splattered across her stomach; she had been too consumed by her own to notice.

Anna's face flushed a deep scarlet. "I… that's never happened before."

"Don't be embarrassed." Kristoff swooped down and placed a brief, chaste kiss on her lips, his face flushed and amber eyes sparkling. "Come on. Let's go get you cleaned up."

–

 **Remember to always practice safe sex, kiddos.**


	11. Chapter 11

_Your legs are smooth,  
As they graze mine,  
We're doing fine,  
We're doing nothing at all._

 _Dashboard Confessional, "Hands Down"_

—

Kristoff moved to the shower to turn on the water as Anna stood in front of the bathroom sink, letting the faucet run to get warm as she soaked a cloth with which to wash himself from her. She wiped the rag across her body, over the swell of her breasts and down past her navel, his release disappearing from her skin in a few deliberate, elongated strokes. It was then, when her hand holding the cloth disappeared between her legs as Kristoff watched her reflection in the mirror, that he felt himself grow hard again almost immediately.

He stepped behind Anna and grabbed her hips, nudging himself against her rear, spreading her legs with his own leg between them as his mouth nuzzled the hollow space below her jaw. She dropped the washcloth in surprise at the unexpected contact; she could feel how ready for her he was already.

"I can't believe I still want you," he rasped into her ear.

Anna turned in his arms to face him, her expression indignant but eyes glittering with mirth. "Do you usually tire of girls easily or something?"

Kristoff shook his head but didn't reply; he didn't even know where to begin to put what he was feeling into words. It was a new sensation to him.

It was as though he would _always_ want her; like he would never in a million years be able to get enough of her to be completely satisfied.

Taking her by the hand, Kristoff led Anna into the steam-filled shower with him, sliding the glass door shut behind them before smashing his lips to hers. His fingers danced down her side, finding the cheek of her bottom and giving it a squeeze before sliding beneath her thigh, gripping the flesh there to hike her leg around his waist.

Anna gasped, breaking the kiss; the combination of his hot mouth and body moving against her own, combined with the sensation of the warm, cascading water that covered them both made her delirious, dizzy again with lust. Taking his chance, Kristoff dipped his head down and took a wet nipple into his inviting mouth, suckling until Anna was mewling and tangling her fingers in his hair before moving on to the other one.

"God, Kristoff," she breathed out. "That feels fucking _amazing_."

The blonde man couldn't help but laugh at her curse.

"Don't tell me Hans never did that to you either?"

"Can we not… talk about him right now?"

He brought his face to hers and pressed a delicate, moist kiss to her lips. When Anna met his eyes, they were dark.

"Sorry," he murmured, the tone of his voice apologetic but undeniably carnal. "Let me make it up to you."

Guiding her to face away from him, he pushed gently on the plane of her back with the palm of his hand and she obliged, bending at the waist to lean forward and brace her hands on the tile wall in front of her, her water-logged hair dangling in clumps in front of her face.

When he slid himself inside her tight warmth Anna keened, and her body tensed around him, clamping down on him in a way that would have been painful if it didn't feel so fucking _good_.

He thrusted in and out of Anna, bringing himself closer to the edge with each moan and mewl that fell from her lips, but it wasn't enough; he needed to feel more of her in his arms, needed to kiss her and see her face as he plunged into her deeper and deeper.

He pulled Anna up and turned her to face him so that he could kiss her hungrily, reaching his hands around to hoist her up, until her legs were twined around his waist and her back was pressed flush against the foggy glass of the shower door, before thrusting into her once more.

They continued like that for some time, savoring the friction of each other's bodies as each jolt of Kristoff moving inside her caused them to moan in unison, hands and mouths and tongues becoming more frantic as the pleasure became too much to bear.

When Kristoff slid out of her with a groan and spent himself against her leg– his essence washing down the drain with the hot water that continued to shower over them– the euphoric waves crashed into Anna once again, like the ocean tide against the sand, over and over until she shook and went limp like a rag doll in his embrace.

Anna was astounded. _Another one?_ And so soon after her first, to boot.

The water squeaked off and all was suddenly quiet. Strong arms wrapped around her in her stupor, lifting her up and carrying her through to the bedroom.

She felt deliciously sore and spent, and she passed out mere moments after Kristoff laid her down upon the mattress; his face was the last thing she saw before her heavy eyelids fluttered closed, and– prior to slipping into unconsciousness– she had the brief, hazy thought that she wanted his face to be the first thing she saw when she woke up, too.

He fell asleep shortly after with her small, warm body in his arms, lulled into slumber by the song of her quiet breaths that mingled in perfect harmony with the wind and waves that drifted in through the open doors, alongside the beating of his own heart.

It was the best sleep of his life.

–

They'd had sex one more time before breakfast, when Anna awoke to Kristoff's hardness poking against her behind and his lips pressing soft kisses to her shoulder– and, feeling bold, she'd rolled over and straddled him before he had even fully woken up to comprehend what was happening.

Not that he'd complained.

Over breakfast (which Kristoff had prepared while Anna took a proper shower), they discussed possible plans for the day, shooting each other shy, knowing smiles through bites of pan-fried ham and blushes between sips of coffee. There was an easiness between them that Anna couldn't put her finger on; whereas she expected an awkward morning after, there was only contentment. Even the tension that had usually been present with Hans was absent from the atmosphere.

The bright, yellow sunlight filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling promised a beautiful day outside, and so Anna had suggested they take a trip into town for some sightseeing. Kristoff was normally a homebody, but he conceded to the suggestion, intrigued by the idea of strolling down the street beside the feisty young woman, her hand in his.

Hours later, as the late afternoon sun made its way westward, they stopped at a small shack on their way back out of town for some ice cream.

Anna ordered a scoop of pistachio, and Kristoff ordered two scoops of vanilla cookie dough, and when Kristoff paid for the cones without a fight Anna felt her body heat up almost instantaneously.

They sat at a picnic table near the beach and the auburn-haired woman's gaze trailed out towards the sunset falling over the sea.

"My parents used to always take me and Elsa here," she explained softly. "It was our tradition."

When she turned to look at Kristoff, he was watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Chocolate used to be my favorite flavor growing up," Anna continued, her eyes glazing over with nostalgia. "But pistachio was my mom's favorite. After she died, I came out here for the funeral and decided to try it. Now it's like a comfort thing for me."

When he didn't say anything in response, but only continued to stare at her, his amber-hued irises glowing red in the dying light of day, Anna let out a nervous laugh.

" _What?_ Why are you staring at me like that?"

Kristoff reached out then, wiping the pad of his thumb along the corner of her lips; when he pulled the digit away, Anna could see the drop of melted ice cream there.

He popped the finger into his mouth and licked it clean. The move was nonchalant and perhaps entirely innocent, but Anna's breath hitched at the sight of it.

"You're a messy eater," he stated observantly, unblinking. His eyes seemed to darken slightly with his words. It could've simply been a trick of the light; the sun was setting, after all, casting everything in the hazy mauve of dusk.

Feeling bold, Anna gave the top of her ice a single drawn-out, languid lick with her tongue, being sure to get extra on her lips this time, coating them in a thin layer of cream.

"Am I, now?" She asked rhetorically, flirtatiously.

Something like a quiet growl rumbled deep in Kristoff's throat, and before she could protest he was taking her by the hand and leading her back to the car.

"Where are we going?" Anna asked, curiosity piqued by his sudden urgency.

"Home."

Anna's heart skipped a beat; the lust in his tone was barely restrained. When they reached the car, Kristoff shoved her roughly against it and kissed her; she turned to water in his arms and gripped him tighter, afraid that if she didn't then she'd break into a thousand pieces that would fly in every direction. The hand holding her ice cream clenched a little too hard, cracking the cone.

Licking her ice cream off of his lips, Kristoff pulled away and gazed into her eyes; the desire she saw there was undeniable. "We're going to go home now, and I'm going to fuck you in every corner of that place before this weekend is over."

It was a promise that elated Anna, exciting her until every nerve ending in her body was alert and awake and eager for the moment his hands and lips would be on her again.

But perhaps the most enticing part of his proposition was the fact that he had referred to their destination as _home_ , and she very much liked the way it sounded when he said it.


	12. Chapter 12

_'Cause, honey, I'll come get my things, but I can't let go  
I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it_

 _Lorde, "Green Light"_

—

They arrived back in the city late Monday night. Neither of them had wanted to leave at all, would have been content to stay holed up in their nest at the Cape for the rest of their lives, but they had lives and jobs and responsibilities in New York to return to.

Anna dropped Kristoff off first before heading to her hotel. He hesitated, hand on the door handle and his brows drawn inward, as though he were contemplating asking her to come inside with him. But after a minute he leaned over and kissed her over the center console, a surprisingly slow, tender kiss, before exiting the vehicle with his duffel and hustling up the steps to his building. Anna watched him disappear into it with an ache in her heart.

When Anna entered her suite at the Four Seasons and looked around, dropping her overnight bag listlessly on the floor next to the bathroom, the magic that had been enveloping her for the duration of the previous three days dissipated.

This was her suite. Not her apartment. Her fancy Manhattan loft, which she had picked out and purchased and decorated herself with love and care. The apartment which she had shared with Hans for the better part of a year. The apartment where Hans probably still was, even now, waiting for her to come home as he stroked Olaf sadly in his lap. Or maybe he had moved on and already had other women over, sleeping and doing _other_ things with them in their bed. Maybe he had moved out and moved in with someone else– some other gullible, wealthy girl.

Their wedding was supposed to be happening in a couple of weeks. _If_ it was even still happening.

A _meow_ greeted her suddenly, causing Anna to jump with a start. Olaf the Persian cat rubbed along her feet, purring for a moment before flopping over onto his back and gazing up at her with goofy yellow eyes. Her eyes watered at the unexpected sight of him, and when she bent down she noticed the piece of paper tucked into his pink collar.

 _Anna–_

 _Thought you might miss him and want some company._

 _Elsa xoxo_

Her sister had retrieved him from her apartment for her. Elsa _hated_ animals. If anything, she found them to be even more disgusting and unclean than humans.

She held the cat in her arms and cried.

–

The shortened work week went by mostly without incident. Anna had wanted to call Kristoff, multiple times, but whenever she caught herself reaching for the phone she forced herself to resist. She also saw the number of voicemails that had started to pile up, from the florist, the caterer, the reception venue, the boutique where her dress was being held– but as Anna mindlessly scrolled through them early on Thursday morning, wondering whether or not she should just delete them altogether, one voicemail stuck out to her: it was from Hans.

It was as though all the air had been sucked from the room. Her vision tunneled and the hand holding her iPhone trembled. The timestamp indicated that he had called sometime Monday night, while she had been driving in the car with Kristoff. It may have even been during the time when they had been passionately locking lips in front of his apartment building.

Mustering up all the courage she possessed in her petite body, she pressed the "play" button and brought the phone to her ear.

" _Hey… Anna. Sorry I missed Labor Day. I hope you had a good time. I know you were looking forward to it._ "

Anna gulped, suddenly feeling very guilty, but the message continued.

" _I know I haven't tried to reach out or call you or anything, but I've been busy with work. I guess I also needed some time to myself, to think about everything, and I wanted to give you your own space, too._ "

She heard the sound of Hans sighing into the receiver.

" _Elsa came and took Olaf. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't listen to me. I don't blame her. I know she doesn't like me._ "

Some rustling on the other end of the line.

" _Anyway… if you want to talk, about the wedding, I'm here. Maybe we can meet up for coffee or something. We could go that cafe we like, get some of those chocolate cakes… it'll be my treat._ "

If Anna wasn't just guilty before, she felt absolutely remorseful now.

" _You know where to find me. Let me know. I… I love you._ "

 _Click._

His voice had _sounded_ sincere, but something about his voicemail had unnerved her. Why call now? And so late? It was almost as if he had been putting on an act, trying to force himself to sound as genuinely sorry as possible, as though his heart wasn't truly in it. Either that, or Anna was trying to find an excuse– any excuse– to make him out to be the villain, to have a reason to not call him back, to never see him again. It made Anna squeamish, pulling her heart in multiple different directions.

She didn't sleep well that night.

Anna had lengthy board meetings almost every day that week, finalizing the details for Elsa's party, and so it wasn't until late on Friday that she saw Kristoff again.

"Hey, " he greeted, beaming from ear to ear when he saw her approaching him from down the hall. When she reached him, hands behind her back, he glanced around to be sure no one was around before leaning down and wrapping her up in a kiss. Anna sighed and melted into him; his presence simultaneously thrilled and unsettled her.

"I missed you," he admitted with a whisper when he broke the kiss, his expression abashed. It only served to twist Anna's gut even further.

"Have you noticed any more suspicious mail?" she responded with instead, trying to sound as businesslike as possible. In all the excitement of her time spent with Kristoff, she had almost forgotten about the traitorous envelope tucked away in the drawer of her desk. It had already been nearly two weeks and she was nowhere closer to knowing who had been sending trade secrets to Weselton than she was to knowing where she stood with her engagement.

"I've been keeping an eye out, but there hasn't been anything."

Defeated, Anna allowed her shoulders to slump. "I should be getting home, then."

"My shift's nearly over anyway. Let me walk you?"

Anna ruefully nodded her acquiescence.

They walked together in tense, reticent silence. The skies were dark and gray and a light pitter-patter of rain had begun to fall, covering the cars on the street in glittering droplets like diamonds that reflected in the headlights.

"Hans called." Anna said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Kristoff's eyes widened, and out of her peripheral vision Anna swore she saw the flicker of something sad flash across them. "What did he say?"

"Said he's sorry he hasn't tried to reach out to me these past couple weeks. Said he needed some time to think and wanted to give me my own space to sort out my feelings. But he wants to meet up and talk about…"

Her voice trailed off, but somehow not saying the words "the wedding" made it all the more real, more terrible. She sighed and ran a hand over her hair. The wind had picked up considerably and the rain began to fall harder, soaking and chilling her to the bone; she had forgotten her coat back at the office. She tried in vain to rub her arms for warmth, cursing the thin khaki-green jersey dress she'd worn to work that day. Kristoff noticed her distress and shrugged off his windbreaker without another word, placing it over her shoulders. She mumbled her thanks and pulled it tighter around herself; it smelled like him.

"And what did you say?"

"I didn't say anything," she replied quietly. "I just kind of… hung up."

"You didn't call him back?"

Anna reluctantly shook her head, her dampened strawberry-blonde curls jostling from the movement.

"So, you're officially done, then?" He almost sounded hopeful and it poked at her aching, guilty heart.

Anna was hesitant to respond. "I don't know."

Whenever she tried to picture a future with Hans, the image was bleak.

But when she shifted the focus of her thoughts, to Kristoff, her heart skipped a beat; she could see herself waking up in his arms in their dingy little apartment in Queens, sitting at the counter in one of his oversized shirts while he made them breakfast, watching the way the ring on her finger sparkled in the light when she turned her hand way this way and that, hearing the way he asked her, "How would you like your eggs, Mrs. Bjorgman?" as Sven and Olaf lay sleeping nearby on opposite ends of the couch, making plans to head out to the Cape for the weekend…

She wanted to make love with him in his bed– _their_ bed– every night, before retiring to the balcony of the fire escape with a bottle of wine, taking sips straight from the bottle as she cuddled into him, watching the lights in the city flicker on, one-by-one like stars, while he strummed soft, soothing musical notes on his guitar.

She tried to tell herself that she had only just met this man, that Kristoff was still essentially a stranger to her, that she couldn't _possibly_ feel so deeply for him already– but then again, isn't that exactly what had happened with Hans?

If she left Hans for Kristoff, would the same thing happen again? Would she be happy for a year or so before she got bored and moved on to the next guy who caught her fancy?

"You either have a fiance, or you don't." Kristoff's voice broke her out of her stupor. He shrugged his shoulders and gestured with his arms out at his sides, palms up, his eyes telling her that she needed to make a choice. They had stopped walking, and Anna realized that they were standing under the awning of the entrance to her hotel.

When Anna didn't answer immediately, but only bit her lip in torment, Kristoff shook his head sadly and turned to leave, but changed his mind and spun on his heel to face her once more.

"What _do_ you want, Anna?" His burly stature blocked the light coming in from the glass double doors, silhouetting his form like a halo, or a golden god– if golden gods could get sodden from the rain and wore UPS uniforms. She didn't answer and Kristoff took her face in his massive hands, one palm on either cheek, forcing her to look at him as he repeated the question, enunciating each word for impact.

"What do you _want?_ "

" _I don't know!_ " Anna cried, shrinking into herself, her small, broken voice cutting through the din of the rainfall around them. "I used to think that I knew what I wanted, that if I just went out into the world and _took_ it for myself, then it'd be _mine_. I was in love with the idea of love, it was all I ever dreamed about and wanted for as long as I can remember, but now I'm not even sure I know what _love_ is."

Kristoff scanned her face, searching for an answer; he tried to find it in the depths of her turquoise eyes, but if it was even there at all she was hiding it from him. He damned himself for never being good at reading people.

"Fuck it."

He grabbed Anna by her upper arms with both hands then, gripping her to hold her steady. Before Anna could protest Kristoff's head dipped and his lips were pressed to hers, moving against hers with a desperation she had never experienced prior to this very moment.

Soon enough she was reciprocating his urgency, throwing her arms around his neck and jumping up on the tips of her toes, lessening the distance between them to give herself leverage to deepen the kiss.

The passion built between them as they explored each other with colliding lips and tongues and teeth, escalating to a boiling point before Kristoff broke their connection and pulled back to look down at her, face flushed.

Anna had _never_ been kissed by Hans the way that Kristoff kissed her– not even in the bedroom. Kristoff's kisses were desperate and passionate and full of something that left her breathless. Hans' kisses were just… nice, she supposed.

"Is _this_ what you want?" His breathing was heavy and he searched her eyes once more for an answer, blinking beneath his dripping bangs. "Am _I_ what you want?"

When Anna didn't reply, but only stared at him with haunted eyes, droplets of rainwater falling from her clumped lashes and onto her cheeks like tears, he let her arms go and stepped back.

"I won't just wait around for you to make up your mind, Anna."

A choked sob escaped Anna's throat and she reached for him with a hand, shaking fingers outstretched. "Kristoff, please don't do this."

"Goodnight, Anna." His words were spoken with a tragic finality and he spun on his heel, walking out into the street and the rain and the cold, unforgiving city without another look back at the most beautiful face he had ever known; he knew the despair he'd see there if he did would reflect his own, and it would crush him to pieces.


	13. Chapter 13

_I wish we would just give up_

 _'Cause the best part is falling_

 _Calling it anything but love_

 _And I will make sure to keep my distance_

 _Say 'I love you' when you're not listening_

 _How long can we keep this up?_

 _Christina Perri, "Distance"_

–

Anna didn't call or text him all weekend.

She wasn't waiting for him Monday evening after work. Nor was she there on Tuesday, or Wednesday.

On Thursday, Kristoff semi-purposely arrived earlier than usual, closer to five o'clock, in the hopes that he might catch a glimpse of her, but her office remained closed and dark.

Perhaps she was avoiding him. Maybe she had chosen Hans, after all.

 _Damn it_ , Kristoff inwardly cursed. He _missed_ Anna like hell, and he kicked himself for giving her an ultimatum the last time they had met.

Out of all the women he had ever "dated" in the city, she was the only one he had ever brought home to his apartment. She was also the only girl he had ever seen more than a single time, gone out of town with, and missed when she wasn't there.

He was beginning to realize that Anna was definitely special to him, and he'd be a fool to let her go without putting up a fight.

Before he knew what he was doing, Kristoff was reaching into his pocket for his cellphone and dialing her number. He was going to find out if she had chosen Hans after all, and– if she had– he was going to try to convince her to reconsider.

The phone rang three times before a groggy voice picked up on the other end.

" _Hello?_ "

"Hey."

There was a pause as she recognized his voice.

" _Hey._ "

"I just wanted to see how you're holding up–" Kristoff heard her cough on the other side of the line and his brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"

" _I've been better._ " Anna sniffled. " _I feel as sick as a dog now, though. I think I caught a chill from being out in the rain._ "

"Where are you?"

" _Still at the Four Seasons._ " She coughed once more and moaned– a low, miserable moan.

"By yourself?"

" _Yes._ " And then, the tiniest sliver of her usual feisty self shining through: " _I never thought I'd go out like this, dying of the common cold at the ripe old age of twenty-two, in a swanky five-star hotel room with no one but my cat for company, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised._ "

She said she was alone. That meant no Hans, right?

"Do you have anyone to take care of you? Is Elsa there?"

Kristoff heard Anna snort, but it wasn't without difficulty. " _The day anyone gets Elsa to come around a sick person will be the day Satan ice skates to work. The Chicago Cubs have a better shot at winning the World Series._ "

"They did."

" _Huh?_ "

"The Cubs just won the World Series last year."

" _Oh._ " Anna sniffled again. " _You know what I'm trying to say._ "

"Yeah."

A beat of silence passed between them.

"Do you want me to come and check on you?"

Anna sighed. " _I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see you, Kristoff._ "

Kristoff's heart skipped a beat.

" _But only if you want to…_ _I'd feel terrible if I got you sick._ " She coughed again. " _Well, even terrible-er, I guess._ "

"I'm as healthy as a bull," Kristoff boasted, pounding his chest for effect even though she couldn't see it. "You won't get me sick."

" _If you're sure, then._ "

"I am."

–

Despite the nagging urge to see Anna as soon as possible, Kristoff had run home to change clothes first, swapping his brown-and-gold uniform for a faded black pullover and basketball shorts, slipping on a pair of athletic slide sandals for convenience and comfort to complete the ensemble.

He also stopped by the grocery store on his way to the hotel; he had remembered seeing a tiny kitchenette in her suite that had a microwave, and so he had picked up a few microwaveable chicken noodle soup cups, along with saltine crackers, Gatorade, and a two-liter bottle of ginger ale. As a special treat, just in case she was feeling up to it, he bought her a pint of her favorite dessert: pistachio ice cream.

"Anna?" Kristoff called out as he swung the door open and stepped into the room, arms full of paper bags. He made his way to the kitchen area and set them on the counter before going to the bed.

The sight of Anna frightened him.

The sheets around her body were soaked and dark. Her normally peachy, glowing skin had taken on a gray, sickly pallor, and her unbrushed auburn hair stuck to her face and neck in grotesque clumps. Her eyes, normally a bright, lucid shade of turquoise, had dulled to a steely sea-blue. Any anger or resentment he may have felt towards Anna's indecision to leave her fiance for good was extinguished as easily as someone blowing out a candle.

The horror he felt must've been painted all over his face, because Anna spoke.

"I look like death, don't I?" She snorted. "I _feel_ like death. I understand if you want to leave."

It amazed him how Anna could read him too easily, even in her current state– especially since he himself was always terrible at reading people.

Kristoff dropped his overnight bag to the floor and moved towards the bed, his gaze meeting Anna's.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He knelt beside the bed, still visible from the waist up due to his height, and placed the back of his hand on her forehead to test her temperature.

"You're burning up, Anna," he said softly, tone laced with concern. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

With effort, Anna shook her head; the damp hairs that stuck grossly to her cheeks and forehead didn't budge. She retched then, but nothing came up, leaving her to wheeze dryly for a few seconds until she could regain her composure.

"That's it, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, Kristoff," she croaked, reaching out and grasping the sleeve of his hoodie in her meek hold. "Please. Just stay with me."

His heart sank at her weak, desperate plea and he leaned down, pressing his lips to the wet skin of her temple. "Of course I will."

–

After convincing her to drink some Gatorade and take a few spoonfuls of soup, she fell asleep. As much as Kristoff didn't want to leave her side, he left to make himself at home in the sitting area, but not before rearranging the furniture so that he could still see her sleeping form just over the top of the television– just in case she woke up.

He passed the time for the next few hours watching TV, getting up every so often to refresh the wet cloth he had folded across Anna's forehead. The sight of her so ill and vulnerable pained him, but there was nowhere else he'd rather be than in that room, doing the best he could to make her comfortable and ensure that she wasn't alone.

It was a disconcerting state for Kristoff the Perpetual Loner to be in.

She slept soundly until almost midnight, when– in the middle of the football game Kristoff had been half-watching– she awoke with a start, heaving and choking out his name.

The blond man knew immediately what she needed, and he raced to the kitchen to grab a bowl for her, making it back to the bedroom just in time for Anna to hurl into it. He rubbed her back and whispered soothingly as her body forced the contents of her stomach up, out, and into the bowl. After a few minutes, she settled, laying back down against the pillow with a sob.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words cracking, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling.

"Don't be," Kristoff assured her as he rubbed a tender hand across her forehead, pushing her wet bangs out of her eyes. Whether she was sorry for her sickness or the Schrodinger's engagement that hung over their heads like a dark cloud, he didn't know.

And frankly, at the moment, he didn't quite care.

"No one's taken care of me like this since I was a kid."

"I wouldn't want you to go through this alone."

Her eyes flickered to him then, head turning slightly. "You really are the sweetest guy I've ever met."

Her face paled suddenly and she jumped forward, puking once more into the bowl Kristoff held out for her. When she had a reprieve to catch her breath, Kristoff handed her a glass of water and headed to the kitchen to wash out the bowl.

He returned to the bedroom to see Anna curled up into a ball, like a child, her face streaked with tears. She glanced up when she noticed he had come back.

"Will you…" her voice was weak, raw from the effort of her illness. "Just… lay next to me? You don't have to hold me or anything…"

Wordlessly, Kristoff climbed into bed beside Anna and pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin and placing a kiss there, murmuring promises that everything would be alright.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thought you said that you would always be in love  
But you're not in love no more  
Did it frighten you  
How we kissed when we danced on the light up floor?_

 _Lorde, Green Light_

—

Kristoff awoke in an empty bed.

He shot up, tuning his ear towards the bathroom in case Anna had gotten up to puke some more, but instead he only heard the tinkling of silverware coming from the other room.

Anna walked in then, freshly showered and wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe, and her face registered with pleasant surprise when she saw him.

"Oh, good, you're awake. Room service just got here."

He got out of bed and followed her to the dining area, where a massive spread of juices, meats, fruits, and more had been laid out across multiple carts with a careful hand.

"Damn," he breathed, impressed by the sight. "You don't mess around."

Anna laughed at his statement and the healthy sound of it caused Kristoff to smile. "Do you want some ice? I always like ice in my orange juice."

She opened the freezer and reached for the ice tray, pausing when she noticed the pint of pistachio ice cream tucked into the door shelf that hadn't been there before. The sight of it– visual, tangible evidence of Kristoff's thoughtfulness– made her body warm. And not warm in the sick, feverish way she had been earlier.

She made her way back to the table and helped herself to a plate as Kristoff fixed his own. Her stomach rumbled loudly, angrily, and her companion had to stifle his laughter at seeing such a dainty woman shovel food into her mouth like a competitive bodybuilder.

Anna suddenly stopped mid-chew, her cheek puffed out like a chipmunk's. "Wait, what's today?"

"It's Friday," Kristoff replied nonchalantly as he took a sip of his coffee.

She swallowed hard then, wincing when the amount of food was too wide for her esophagus. "Shit, Elsa's coronation is today."

"Coronation?"

"It's a joke," Anna explained. "She's going to be Arendelle Publishing's new CEO, so I keep making fun of her saying that she's going to be the new Queen and needs to have an official crowning ceremony. The party tonight is being thrown by the board to announce the decision."

Kristoff nodded his head in understanding as he reached for another slice of bacon.

"It's going to be a _huge_ party. Hans was supposed to be my date, but…"

Her eyes flicked to Kristoff then, and she cocked her head to one side, as though considering something.

"Do you own a nice suit?" Anna asked him.

"I might." He did own precisely _one_ nice suit from Men's Warehouse that he kept in a garment bag in the back of his closet for special occasions. It had been years since he'd worn it last, however.

"Great." Anna shot him a mischievous smile and Kristoff felt an involuntary twitch in his pants at the sight of it. "You can pick me up at seven."

–

Kristoff had spent too much time trying to fuss with his hair, ultimately ending in a decision to simply slick it back with a light gel; the last thing he wanted was to be late to pick up his _date_.

The idea of being Anna's escort for the evening _was_ a tad daunting, but he was also secretly fucking _ecstatic_.

The Princess of Arendelle Publishing tucked a stray lock of ginger hair behind her ear as she approached from the double doors of the hotel, gently patting the side of her coiffure, her other hand holding a small metallic clutch, no larger than a tissue box. She was dressed in a sleeveless, scoop-necked, A-line gown, with a fitted bodice made of black satin that gave her petite but firm breasts ample support, shoving them together and up. The skirt of the dress was full and consisted of multiple layers of sheer, peridot-colored chiffon, like a ballerina's tutu, and the layers of material thinned out enough at the bottom to reveal glimpses of her pale ankles and black stilettos as she walked. Her wrists and unpierced ears were bare, but around her neck she wore a black ribbon choker with a golden coin pendant dangling from its middle.

Kristoff noticed that she was wearing full makeup for the first time since he'd met her, her lips tinted red with lipstick and her eyelashes dark and thick with mascara; they fanned out over the tops of her highlighted cheekbones when she averted his appreciative gaze, looking down and away from him. Her cheeks were as naturally rosy and dotted with stars as they always were, having regained their color since her bout of sickness had subsided.

"Wow," was all the burly man could say, stunned. "I could kiss you right now."

Anna peeked up at him, as if daring him to follow through on his statement.

"You look pretty 'wow,' too," she hummed, reaching up with both hands to adjust and smooth the lapels of his charcoal gray suit. Beneath the jacket he wore a black dress shirt with a wine-red tie; she was surprised to see that had such good taste. He was sexy enough in his mail carrier's uniform, but he was as handsome as the Devil himself in a suit.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the expanse of his chest and she felt the muscles there twitch beneath her touch; she was reminded briefly of the way his body had responded to her touch over the holiday weekend they had spent together and felt a heat begin to pool in her abdomen.

Anna stepped back and smiled up at her date. " _Very_ handsome."

Kristoff felt his face warm at her compliment and he cleared his throat, offering his arm to Anna. "May we?"

She took his arm. "We _may_."

–

Only one glass of champagne and a handful of grapes and Anna was already feeling a bit woozy; a passing waiter waved a silver tray of something awful-smelling in front of her face and her stomach lurched, still not fully recovered from the flu.

"No, no caviar for me, thanks."

No caviar _ever_. She shuddered. Kristoff felt her uneasiness beside him and he reached down between them to take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze; instantly calmed by the gesture, Anna squeezed back to let him know that she was okay.

It was then that Anna's sister, Elsa, approached them.

Elsa was a vision in her own right: her strapless, beaded mermaid gown had a slit in the side that ran up the length of her slender leg, and it sparkled in hues of aquamarine and emerald depending on which way the light hit the material. She wore white diamond chandelier earrings with a matching necklace and tennis bracelet, and her heeled pumps were the same dazzling colors as her dress. Her white-blonde hair, which Kristoff had only ever seen her wear around the office in no-nonsense braids and chignons, was curled loose and pinned to one side, allowed to fall over and around her pale shoulder. On her hands, she wore sheer, white lace gloves that cut off at her wrists. She looked like a glamourous Hollywood actress on the red carpet of an awards ceremony.

"Anna. Mr. Bjorgman." She nodded her chin in turn to greet each half of the pair standing before her. The flute of champagne in her left hand vibrated dangerously.

"Elsa," Anna said in a low, concerned voice so that only they could hear, touching her hand to her sister's arm to still it. "Did you bring your food?"

She knew that her sister never ate anything that had been prepared by someone else; it could have been contaminated.

Elsa shook her head. "No. I was going to try to eat before I came here but there was _no way_ I was going to be able to keep anything down."

The subtle reference to the act of vomiting made both Anna and Kristoff wince; the wounds of the previous night were still too fresh.

"Mr. Duke from Weselton House is here," the elder Arendelle hissed suddenly. Then, leaning closer, as though to divulge some great secret: "He's been trying to dance with me _all night_."

Anna and Kristoff exchanged knowing looks at the mention of Mr. Duke; Elsa didn't notice, too preoccupied with glancing behind her to be sure that he hadn't followed her. Across the room, the trio could see the aforementioned man near the bar; he was spry for his old age, short and gawky, and his toupee flapped on his head like a cartoon mouth whenever he spoke.

Someone caught Elsa's attention from over Anna's shoulder and she hiked her skirt up from the floor as if to walk. "Excuse me a moment."

As Elsa strolled away from them and disappeared into a throng of people, heels clicking on the marble floor, Kristoff turned to Anna.

"Speaking of dancing…"

Anna lifted an eyebrow at him. "Wouldn't now be a good time to do some reconnaissance? To try to find out who's been sending letters to Mr. Duke?"

Now it was Kristoff's turn to raise a questioning brow. "And how would we do that, exactly? Just walk right up ask him? Follow him around, hiding behind plants and statues and eavesdropping on his conversations? Plant a GPS tracker on his coattail?"

Anna's face fell and she pouted her lips. "Well, not when you say it like _that_."

Moving a hand to the small of her back and taking her other hand in his, Kristoff kissed the back of it and pulled her closer to him, until her body was flush against his own. He wanted to spend this night with Anna the proper way.

"Tonight is a celebration," he murmured in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Let's just enjoy ourselves."

Unable to speak, Anna simply nodded, and allowed Kristoff to sweep her across the room to the dancefloor.

The music had changed from a lively jazz ensemble to a slow waltz, the romantic, melancholic sound of the piano notes drifting over the room that roared with the dull white noise of a hundred conversations that all seemed to hush at once.

"Thank you, by the way," Anna said once they reached the dancefloor and Kristoff guided them into position, her arms around his neck and his hands on her hips. It felt foreign– but exhilarating– to her; Hans had never liked to dance, and so they never had.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me last night." She pondered for a second. "Well, thank you for everything that you've done for me, actually."

" _Everything?_ " He winked down at her, his expression playful and a touch perverse.

Anna had to fight back a snort. "You know what I mean."

His face sobered then, turning austere. "You don't need to thank me, Anna. I… I wanted to be there for you. I didn't want you to be alone."

 _And maybe I didn't– don't– want to be alone,_ he thought.

Kristoff sighed then and pressed his forehead to hers, their bodies swaying gently in time with the music, oblivious to the world around them, ignorant of everything just outside of their perfect little bubble.

"You can call me whenever you need me," he whispered. "Whatever it is. Whenever you need _anything_. A friend, or someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on... I'll _always_ be here for you."

He realized how much he meant the words as soon as he said them. Even if Anna did go back to her fiance after all, he would always care for her; he would always come running whenever she called.

"Like a boyfriend?"

Kristoff huffed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling, the tip of his nose rubbing against hers. "Yeah, like a boyfriend."

"I'd like that," Anna mumbled softly with a smile. She pushed her forehead harder against his. "Never had one of those before."

He closed the gap between them and touched his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and sensually, taking his time to savor it; Anna never wanted the kiss to end and she wished with all of her might that she could stop time, if only so that she could continue kissing Kristoff forever.

She could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage and was sure that her own heartbeat was no different; in fact, she couldn't tell where her heartbeat ended and his began, meshing into one like a hummingbird trapped between them.

She pulled away first, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: "Let's get out of here."

Kristoff's smile matched her own. "You read my mind."


	15. Chapter 15

_If I had only felt the warmth within your touch_

 _If I had only seen how you smile when you blush_

 _Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough_

 _Well, I would have known_

 _What I was living for all along_

 _Sleeping At Last, "Turning Page"_

—

When Kristoff hailed a cab and gave the driver directions to his own apartment, Anna was confused, but said nothing.

Upon walking into his apartment and into the kitchen, Kristoff kicked off his shoes and held up both hands to indicate for her to stay where she was, while he disappeared into the bedroom. Curious, Anna did as she was told. As she waited, Sven trotted over to greet her with a lick of her hand before returning to his spot on the couch.

She heard the sound of something clicking repeatedly and the smell of smoke wafted to her nose. Kristoff returned a minute later, holding his hand out to her to lead her to the bedroom.

Entering his bedroom for the first time ever, Anna wasn't sure what she had expected, but it definitely wasn't _this_.

His small room was plain and unassuming, perfect for a bachelor; the Queen-sized mattress sat atop a box spring on the floor, made up with blue and green jersey sheets, with only a single, modern, metal nightstand beside it. The walls were empty, save for a couple hockey posters that had begun to curl at the corners, as though they had been tacked up ages ago. The open windows on the opposite wall faced an unimpressive, solid brick wall.

But what _was_ impressive– and caught her helplessly by surprise– was what he had done to the space: red petals littered the floor, leaving a trail that started at the doorway and ended on the bed, where a bouquet of roses sat waiting. On the bedside table and around the bed he had lit multiple candles, illuminating the room in a soft, golden glow.

Anna's heart raced and her eyes went wide as she took it in. "You did... all of this… for me?"

"Yeah," he said from behind her, pressing himself flush against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. "And it's a good thing you wanted to come back with me after all, or else this would have been for nothing."

His voice wavered with the slightest hint of insecurity and self-doubt and Anna melted in his arms at the sound of it.

"I've got a bottle of wine in the fridge, too, if you want some. I don't know what you like so I just got white Moscato. I hope that's okay."

Anna couldn't even respond. She couldn't do _anything_ but stare at the room as her vision began to blur with tears; this was easily the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her in her life. _Ever_.

"I'm not great at this whole romance thing," Kristoff continued from behind her when she remained unresponsive, eager to fill the nervous silence. "I've never tried before. But I wanted you to– I mean, you deserve– you said you always wanted–"

He stumbled over his words and Anna stopped him when she turned and planted a heated kiss on his lips, grabbing his face in her hands to force him to look at her.

"Kristoff, it's… it's…"

Something washed over Anna, enveloping her like warm water or the steam of a shower or a blanket fresh out of the dryer. It burned her up from the inside out, but left her feeling calm and contented; safe and secure in his arms.

When she closed her eyes, it was as if all she knew and had ever known was _him_.

Leaning into his embrace, Anna wrapped her own thin arms around Kristoff's neck, tipped her head back, and gazed up into his honest amber eyes.

"It's wonderful… _you're_ wonderful."

His head came down and their lips met in an intoxicating kiss that caused Anna's body to tremble and a fire to light in Kristoff's stomach; within moments their mouths were crashing and sliding together chaotically, passionately, colliding in desperate fervor, tongues tasting each other.

"Wait, wait," Kristoff struggled to protest, breaking their connection; his eyes bore into hers as he spoke: "I want to go slow with you this time."

He kissed her on the lips again before whispering against her mouth: "I want to _savor_ you."

His words shot an intense bolt of desire through Anna's womb and she whimpered, immediately turning to putty in his hands; her hands came down to clasp at the front of his suit jacket to keep herself upright as his own muscular arms twined tighter around her body.

With a purposeful hand, Anna reached up and pulled the pin from her coiffure, shaking her long hair loose as Kristoff cupped her face in his palms, moving his lips over her cheek, to her chin, to her jaw, to her other cheek, and back to her mouth.

Anna sighed into the kiss, moving her arms around his waist; he was so thick around that Anna could barely touch her hands together behind his back. Kristoff's own hands found their way further up her back as he kissed her, fumbling for the zipper of her gown; when his fingers found purchase on the tiny piece of metal he pulled it down, opening the bodice of Anna's dress like a clamshell that she pulled away from him to shimmy out of.

When she stood before him in nothing but her panties and high heels, Kristoff took a long, appreciative gaze at her body, sweeping her up and down with his burning amber gaze. While he was distracted, however, Anna had other plans, as she pulled his tie from from around his neck before tantalizingly undoing each button of his dress shirt one-by-one, before he pushing it off of his shoulders along with his suit jacket.

Her hands reached for his belt then, making quick work of the buckle and the clasp of his pants before those were gone, too, joining the heap on the floor.

Each of them shirtless and in their underwear, Anna kicked off her heels before dragging Kristoff to his bed and pushing him down. She climbed on top of the burly man and hooked her legs with his, determined to be as close to him as possible as their lips met once more in a frantic kiss, their respective arousals rubbing together at the place where their hips met, the friction only exacerbated by the fabric barrier between them.

Flipping them over with a strong arm, Kristoff rolled on top of Anna, careful not to rest his weight on her. He moved his lips to her neck and suckled gently, before moving on to her décolletage and each of her breasts in turn, taking the hardened buds of her nippes into his hot mouth and scraping them with his teeth. The sensation caused Anna to hiss and arch her back, purchasing her fingers in his hair.

He moved down to leave a fiery trail of kisses down her stomach, licking and biting as Anna's breaths and moans increased with each contact of his lips on her perspiring skin. His large hands reached for her breasts and squeezed, massaging them as the woman beneath him scraped her nails over his forearms in unbridled excitement.

When he reached the apex of her thighs and slipped her panties down and off of her legs, his tongue darted out to taste her flower, and Anna gasped and bucked her hips reflexively, inadvertently pushing herself right into his waiting mouth.

Kristoff began hungrily feasting between her folds, that most sacred part of her, revelling in the musky flavor of her nectar. Anna shrieked and cried, his name falling unchecked from her lips as her skin was set aflame, the spot beneath her navel winding ever tighter, heating up, her hazy mind lost to the torque of pleasure as she felt herself stretching, reaching for something.

Kristoff thrusted his tongue inside of her sex and, in an instant, Anna was pulled in every direction as fireworks exploded behind her eyes, a single, drawn-out wail being ripped from her throat as she came, shuddering, her muscles contracting, her pleasure rippling through her abdomen in semi-violent convulsions.

Kristoff moved his mouth to lap at her bundle of nerves and slipped a thick finger inside her pulsating core, and then another, and the way Anna mewled and tightened around his digits in response as she came undone was nearly his own undoing.

He had to be inside of Anna, and soon, or else it would surely be the death of him.

After removing his boxers, Kristoff crawled back up the bed and hovered over her body until his face was level to hers and kissed her deeply, his tongue dipping inside to taste the inside of her mouth; she tasted buttery and sweet, like Chardonnay, and when she desperately kissed him back with a moan of his name he knew that he was lost.

He pushed himself inside of her welcoming heat and she gasped, her lower lip trembling, and Kristoff took that lip gently between his teeth as he began to move as slowly as he possibly could, wanting to make it last.

They had already had sex before, almost more times than Anna could count on two hands, but this time was different. This time, every kiss and thrust was propelled by the emotion behind it; every word they whispered to one another in the heat of the moment dripped with deeper meaning.

Grunts and moans fell from Kristoff with wanton abandon, his breath hot in her ear, as she panted under him, unable to do anything but hang on to his body and watch his face with fascination as he moved on top of her and inside of her, seeing her own pleasure reflected in the way his face crumpled and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"Kristoff, I'm gonna–"

"Me too."

He swallowed her final moan with his mouth on hers and she felt the convulsions that began at her center once more, radiating outward, encompassing her entire being. His rock hard organ pulsed inside of her core and he tensed above her and whimpered her name against her lips, stilling for a minute before relaxing atop her.

As she drifted back into lucidity, she could see Kristoff staring down at her with an awestruck expression plastered across his face, as though he'd seen an angel; as though _she_ were an angel to him.

Anna wanted to laugh, or cry, or perhaps say something about how incredible their lovemaking had been– easily the most incredible of her entire life– and perhaps Kristoff had the same inkling, but neither of them said a word as they locked lips slowly, lazily, their heavy breaths mingling together as they recovered from their respective orgasms.

He laid himself down beside her and wrapped her up, planting tiny kisses around the crown of her head as she exhaled contentedly and snuggled closer into him; if she were an angel to him, then her heaven was in his arms, and she never wanted to leave.


	16. Chapter 16

_I should have known_

 _That I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale  
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,  
Lead her up the stairwell_

 _Taylor Swift, "White Horse"_

—

 _Come home._

Her iPhone screen lit up from where it sat on Kristoff's bedside table, basking in the first rays of dawn that filtered in through the window. Anna stared at those two words, that just a week or two prior would have had her running out the door to be with him– to be with Hans.

 _Come home._

The time of the text indicated that it had been sent a little after midnight, when Anna had been too wrapped up in the man currently sleeping beside her with soft snores to even remember her estranged fiance's name, or the fact that she'd ever had one to begin with.

Perhaps Hans had been drinking and the loneliness had hit him like a truck, inspiring him to shoot off a text in a desperate bid to win her back, hoping and praying that it wouldn't be in vain. Perhaps he had been lying in bed, missing her warmth in the spot beside him, when he had decided that he couldn't spend another night without her there.

Or perhaps he had run out of money and knew the piled-up bills were due soon, and he needed to dip into her coffer to pay them.

 _Come home._

Steeling her will, Anna carefully rose so as not to disturb Kristoff, and dressed herself in one of his large flannel shirts from his closet– the same blue one from her first night at his apartment– before taking one last look at her lover, his handsomely boyish face peaceful in slumber; she committed the image to her memory, so that she would be able to pull it out to give her strength when she needed it.

She was going to go home, to Hans, and tell him that the wedding was off once and for all.

–

Two days. Two whole days without hearing from Anna.

At the risk of coming across as a clingy, maniacal psychopath, he'd called and texted her constantly, on and off after awaking Saturday morning– after what had been quite possibly the greatest night of his young life– to find her gone without a trace. Every time he'd called it went straight to voicemail; every text he'd sent had been left unread.

He was so worried about her that he'd even tried going to her suite at the Four Seasons on Sunday, but when he knocked on her door, no one had answered. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He'd then inquired at the reception desk, and they'd informed him that Miss Anna and Olaf the Cat had checked out the night before.

He didn't sleep a wink that night.

On Monday morning, Kristoff called in sick to work, and went to the Arendelle Publishing building a little after ten in the morning, desperate to see her.

He found her in her office, sitting at her desk, scribbling away on a piece of xerox paper. When the door clicked shut behind him, her head shot up to address the visitor, her mouth dropping open when she realized who it was.

"Hey," she managed to say through a swallow. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to make sure you're alright," Kristoff replied with a shrug of his shoulders, trying his best to stay cool. "When I woke up on Saturday you were just… gone."

"Yeah," Anna mumbled. Kristoff noticed that the hand holding her pen trembled. "Sorry about that."

Concerned, the man took a step towards her desk. "Is everything alright? I'm sorry if all the flowers and stuff on Saturday night was too much."

Anna felt her body heat up at the memory of her night with Kristoff, but she felt a twinge of sadness at knowing that she'd never experience such a perfect night ever again; steeling her will, she set down her pen and bit her lip, shooting him a pitiful look. She had to do the right thing before she ruined anymore lives.

"No, Kristoff, it's not that. I'm… I'm back with Hans."

At first, he wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

"You're _what?_ " he asked reflexively, already knowing the answer, something akin to disappointment already hardening in his gut like a calcium deposit.

She continued talking, explaining her reasoning to him, but he hardly heard it, too aware of the blood rushing through his veins and the pounding in his head and the cold sweat that trickled on the back of his neck like drops of chilled rain.

"We talked for hours… he promised to change, to try harder… we're committed to making this work… I've told Elsa all about the espionage and she's going to have I.T. look into it, to see if they can pull any further clues before she takes it to the police… so it's in her hands now..."

A ringing had begun in his ears, piercing his senses, and he shook his head to clear it. He was losing her.

No– he'd _already_ lost her.

The one real thing he'd ever experienced in his life hadn't been real after all.

"... and I just had pre-wedding jitters, I think."

It took Kristoff a moment to realize that she had finished talking, her voice fading back into focus, and he trained his eyes on hers, brown boring into blue.

"This is a joke, right?" he sputtered with a high-pitched, half-hearted laugh, as if he truly didn't even believe it himself. "You can't be serious. This can't be real."

Anna remained rigid.

It was then, when she turned her left hand ever so slightly that a piece of metal on her finger caught the sunlight coming in from the window beside her desk, flashing white; she was wearing a brand-new diamond engagement ring.

"He _cried_ , Kristoff," she said quietly. "I've _never_ seen Hans cry. What was I supposed to do?"

Kristoff averted his gaze, opting instead to stare at his shoes; the remorse on her face was too much for him to take.

"I felt _terrible_. It made me feel like– like–"

"Like an asshole?"

Anna pursed her lips and nodded; his words echoed their conversation at the bar, that first night...

"Yes… like an asshole."

"Yeah, well, maybe that label isn't too far off." Kristoff winced as soon as the hurtful words left his mouth, but Anna didn't flinch.

"I deserved that."

 _No, you didn't_ , he wanted to assure her, but he kept it to himself.

"That's it, then?" Kristoff threw his arms up at his sides and allowed them to drop, his hands smacking the sides of his thighs in a gesture of hopelessness. "We're done?"

Anna's voice was deathly quiet: "I guess so."

She raised her eyes to his then, and he saw the tears that glistened in her blue irises like glass.

"For whatever it's worth," she whispered, straining with the effort of holding back her inevitable sobs. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Kristoff– I never wanted to, and for that I'll always be sorry. You really are the sweetest, kindest guy I've ever known… please don't let anything or anyone– especially what I've done to you– change that. Please."

Kristoff couldn't even nod to indicate that he'd understood her words, that her rejection rang loud and clear in his head, drowning out his thoughts until all that was left was static superimposed over an image of her smiling face.

His reply was automatic, emotionless, robotic: "I hope you and Hans are very happy together."

With that, he spun on his heel and left her office before he could see her cry, feeling wholly numb for the first time since he'd been in foster care as a child.

–

As Kristoff stormed out of Anna's office, fists clenched in his pockets, feeling more sorry for himself than he'd ever remember feeling in his life, he was startled from his thoughts by a jingle of keys.

On edge and extra alert, his head snapped towards the source of the sound and was intrigued to see Elsa outside her office, locking the door as she headed out for lunch; she checked the door handle with a gloved hand to be sure it was locked. Once. Twice. Three times.

When she turned, they inadvertently locked eyes, and Elsa only offered Kristoff a sympathetic frown as she continued on her way without another glance back.

Keys.

Anna had mentioned that only she and Elsa had keys to her office. Nothing and no one came in or out of Elsa's office without her knowledge. And as far as he knew, Elsa lived alone.

But Anna lived with her fiance, meaning that her keys were accessible to someone other than just herself.

The gears in his mind began turning and churning, clicking into place, putting together the pieces of the puzzle. He hadn't noticed any suspicious mail since that first letter that Anna had brought to his attention. That was also around the same time that Anna had moved out, so her office keys would have been no longer accessible to anyone but herself. Hans also wouldn't have had an excuse to come around the office without his engagement being intact, where he would have had access to both Elsa's stationery and the UPS mailbox.

It had to be Hans.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a lanky, russet-haired man in a crisp, ivory-colored linen suit made his way towards him from the opposite end of the hall, carrying a paper bag by the handles, the name of some expensive organic market printed on the side. The strange man glared at him from out of the corner of his eye, his clear green irises sizing him up, but he passed without incident and made his way into Anna's office, shutting the door behind him.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out._

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

 _Breathe in–_

" _Damn_ it!"

Kristoff's fist clenched so hard that his nails drew blood from the palm of his hand. A few heads nearby snapped in his direction, startled by his curse.

He had to be smart about this. He couldn't just go around accusing a man he didn't even know of a crime he had no evidence of other than a young woman's hunch; he needed solid, indisputable proof.

And he knew exactly the person who might be able to give him that proof.


	17. Chapter 17

_You find yourself at my door  
Just like all those times before  
You wear your best apology  
But I was there to watch you leave_

 _Taylor Swift, "The Last Time"_

—

Kristoff rapped his knuckles on the pristine, royal purple door. As a UPS employee, finding her address had been only too easy, and he wasn't surprised to find that she lived in one of the most expensive townhome communities in the West Village.

The peephole darkened momentarily, indicating the presence of someone behind it. Then, tentatively, the door cracked open an inch; Elsa's icy blue eyes stared out at him, as though she were a frightened animal and not the soon-to-be CEO of the most powerful publishing company on the Eastern seaboard.

"Mr. Bjorgman?" she questioned. "Can I help you?"

"Elsa, I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I _need_ to talk to you."

The addressed woman's doe eyes widened even further, something Kristoff hadn't thought was possible.

"What is it?" she asked, a trickle of fear making its way into her quavering voice. "Is it Anna?"

The door nudged open another inch.

Kristoff shook his head and Elsa flinched at the motion. "No, Anna's fine… well, sort of… not really, actually."

Elsa continued to stare him down, unconvinced.

"If you just let me in, I promise to explain everything. It involves you, too."

It had taken a few more minutes of convincing, but Elsa finally let him in. Her home was dizzying; every wall was painted the same shade of Tiffany blue with white crown molding, and all of the furniture was the same shade of plastic-covered white. That was it: Tiffany blue and white, repeating infinitely throughout every room.

After insisting that he remove his shoes and douse his hands in a sanitizing spray, she led Kristoff to a sitting room at the front of the dwelling where the sheer white curtains were drawn, gesturing for him to sit on the loveseat; when he did, he slipped on the plastic covering, but recovered quickly. She offered him tea, but he declined, insisting that he needed to explain everything to her as quickly as possible, and he did so, much to Elsa's horror. He started with his run-in with Anna the first time, and the subsequent discovery of the letter, all of which Elsa already knew about; however, when he got to the topic of Hans and the keys to Elsa's office, the pale-haired woman began to visibly shrink further and further into herself with each word out of Kristoff's mouth.

"Elsa, does Hans ever… stop by your office? Like, when he comes to visit Anna at work?"

"Well… yes." Elsa fiddled with her hands nervously from her spot on the armchair across from Kristoff. "One time he even brought me lunch, but of course I had to refuse."

She added, hastily: "You know– _outside_ food."

"Right, right. But you're saying he's been to your office?"

Elsa swallowed with difficulty. "Yes… oh, God, you're not thinking that he…"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking."

Her blue eyes flashed red with anger. "I've never liked Hans. _Never_. But to think he could be capable of something so _low…_ "

Kristoff swallowed thickly before speaking again, clearing his throat in an act foreshadowing the seriousness of his words to come: "He's _using_ Anna. I know he is. From what she's told me, it sounds like he doesn't pay for anything, and constantly relies on _her_ money to fund his luxurious lifestyle. And he isn't affectionate or trustworthy. He even lied to her about where he goes when he claims he's at work. I can't stand it."

The burly man's fists trembled in his lap, shaking with barely subdued rage. "She deserves so much better."

Elsa's eyes flickered with something akin to realization; Kristoff recognized it as pity, a look he knew only all too well, having received it thousands of times over the course of his tragic lifetime.

Her words were soft and compassionate– a statement: "You love her."

Kristoff nodded, turning his face downward to stare at his hands, his fingers slowly uncurling and unclenching.

"Yeah, I do. I really think that I do."

It was true. He loved her. Somehow, she had snuck up on him, crept into his heart and stayed there, filling his mind and soul until he was consumed by nothing but thoughts of her. He loved Anna. He worried for her wellbeing more than his own; if it came down to it, like the time on the beach, he knew without a doubt that he'd risk his life for hers.

Elsa's gaze flicked over his face, darting from eye to eye. "But she hurt you."

When Kristoff didn't respond, Elsa rose from her seat and smoothed the front of her cerulean dress with her gloved hands, giving the man a sympathetic look.

"Try to understand, Mr. Bjorgman. It's hard to let go of everything you thought would be your life. To drop everything that you believed it _would_ be on a gamble for what it _could_ be."

Silently, Elsa moved over to a console table on the other end of the sofa, and rummaged through the drawer before turning back to face the burly man seated before her.

"We'll be at the rehearsal dinner for the wedding this Thursday," Elsa began, her voice careful. "It starts around eight o'clock and doesn't end until late. It'd be a shame if you _somehow_ got ahold of my spare key to Anna's apartment–" she held up the key in her hand before setting it down on the table before her. "–and used it to go in, find Hans' laptop, and see if there was any _incriminating evidence_ on it."

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at the woman and she only shrugged, the shadow of a smirk tugging at the corners of her thin lips, vaguely reminiscent of her younger sister's own mischievous smile.

"I think I'll go make that tea now."

In a rustle of fabric, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen like a specter, leaving Kristoff alone to pocket the key and marvel at how right Anna had been about the elder Arendelle: she was definitely born to be nothing short of a Queen.

–

Kristoff waited until a quarter after eight to make his way into Anna's building and up to the 33rd floor. Upon entering her loft, he was astounded by what he saw, even in the dark.

Anna's place was impressive– even more impressive than her suite at the Four Seasons; the doorway initially opened into a short hallway, with a closet to one side and a small storage room on the other. At the end of the hall, the entryway opened up into a spacious, open floor plan with a breathtaking view of Manhattan; to Kristoff's left was a large eat-in kitchen with black lacquered cabinets, gray stone countertops, and stainless steel appliances, complete with a white subway tile backsplash and hanging Edison bulb pendant lights. Beyond the kitchen area was what Kristoff interpreted to be the living room; a huge, L-shaped sectional and wooden coffee table sat on a plush, faux-fur floor rug, and along nearly the entire length of the wall was a media center built from sturdy, whitewashed wood that housed the biggest flat screen television that Kristoff could ever remember seeing at Best Buy. The minimal decor on the shelves and walls were obviously dated, but tasteful; they seemed to be vintage– possibly valuable antiques. The entire dwelling had a very mid-century modern, European vibe to it, but it was homey.

"Those Arendelles really don't mess around when it comes to real estate," Kristoff murmured to himself as he made his way inside, quietly shutting and locking the door behind him.

A _meow_ at his feet startled him enough to jump. Yellow, glowing eyes peered up at the newcomer.

"Oh," he breathed out, looking down into a fuzzy, smushed face. "You must be Olaf."

As if to confirm his identification, the creature rolled over onto its back, the bell on its collar tinkling as it did so, and watched the blond man expectantly.

"You probably want a belly rub, huh? Sorry, buddy, I don't have time right now."

The cat only stared up at him blankly. Moving carefully, Kristoff stepped around the beast. He was on a time-sensitive mission, after all.

Unoffended, the animal rolled to its feet and trotted off somewhere into the darkness.

"Weird cat," Kristoff muttered.

His hands felt along the wall for a lightswitch, but he found none. It was then, as he moved further into the apartment to inspect it, that he noticed something glowing on the other side of the couch.

He moved forward, towards the source of the incandescent light, passing a spiral cast-iron staircase on his right that he surmised must lead to the bedroom.

Beside the armrest of the sofa was an end table, and sitting on the end table was a laptop that had been evidently left on by somebody. Kristoff lifted the device into his arms and pried it open like a clamshell; the screen flashed to life, the device whirring as it recovered from sleep mode, warming in his hands. The wallpaper image was unassuming and plain; a simple gradient in varying shades of gray. The dullness of it proved that the laptop Kristoff held was definitely _not_ Anna's computer.

"That was easy enough to find," Kristoff mumbled, sitting down as he began to sort through the various icons on the desktop. A oddly-placed folder named "Sandwiches" caught his attention and he double-clicked it, opening the window to reveal the files inside. Experimentally, he selected a random document.

What he saw caused his stomach to sink in his abdomen like a stone.

 _Mr. Duke–_

 _Enclosed you will find documents confirming Arendelle Publishing's schedule for the fourth quarter for all of our 164 publications and flagship branches, including print dates, exclusives, and planned content._

It was the digital file of the letter Anna had found. A cold sweat broke out on the back of Kristoff's neck and he hastily opened another file, and another, and another. Each one consisted of the internal workings of Arendelle Publishing, addressed to Alan Duke from Elsa Arendelle, with various dates and timestamps indicating that Hans' plot had been in the works for the better part of the past year.

He _fucking_ knew it.

A muffled _click_ broke through the silence of the apartment, and Kristoff realized too late that it was the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door. Hurriedly, the panicked man jumped to his feet and dropped the laptop back on the side table with a clatter as the door swung open.

"No, really, I must've just forgotten that I had set the alarm." It was Anna's voice. "My cat probably got up on the counter and set it off again–"

"Miss, please," came a man's voice in response. It sounded authoritative. "Allow us to do a quick sweep first just to be sure."

Anna walked in with her fiance in tow, led by a pair of uniformed police officers, and before Kristoff could even attempt to hide they rushed forward with a flurry of shouts, pulling out their firearms.

" _Down on the ground!_ " one of the them shouted, an older man with a graying mustache. Heart hammering, Kristoff did as he was told, raising his arms in a gesture of harmlessness as she shakily made his way to the floor. When he was down enough, the officers moved towards him and knelt, forcing the burly man's hands behind his back and cuffing them with the clanking of cold metal.

He had never been arrested before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

" _Oh my_ – Kristoff?!" Anna stepped into the room, her delicate hands covering the shocked pallor of her cheeks, as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing. A light flicked on from somewhere, illuminating the room, before Hans reappeared beside her, barking something about taking inventory to be sure nothing was missing. His suspicious green eyes darted to the laptop beside the couch and he cocked his head.

The older officer pulled Kristoff to his feet, holding him by his arms, as the younger one began to pat him down through his button-up shirt and dark jeans, questioning him about weapons.

"You know this man?" the mustached officer asked.

Anna's wide blue eyes blinked and she hesitated to answer, as though she wasn't sure how to respond under such duress. "Yes– he's... a friend."

"What kind of friend breaks into another friend's place?" the young cop growled, shooting Kristoff a scolding look that made the blond man gulp in fear. Hans and the older officer had begun conversing about the opportunity to press charges, and in all of the commotion Anna was overcome by guilt, the urge to do something to help her former lover overwhelming her.

"He didn't break in," she spoke up suddenly, avoiding the shocked looks that Kristoff, Hans, and the officers shot in her direction; her own face was brave. "I, uh, asked him to get something for me."

Hans scoffed from beside her. "What could you have _possibly–_ "

"Your engagement band," Anna stated curtly, cutting off her fiance. "I forgot the engagement band I bought for you, and I wanted to surprise you with it at dinner, so I asked Kristoff to fetch it for me as a favor. But in all of the excitement I suppose I forgot to warn him about the silent alarm."

When Hans still seemed unconvinced, Anna jerked her shoulders and scrunched her face as though to say, " _Oops, silly know how I am._ "

The officers exchanged glances before freeing Kristoff from his cuffs. Anna turned her head as they did so, squeezing her hands together over the front of her black evening gown, willing her rapid heartbeat to calm. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its confidence.

"I'll see Mr. Bjorgman out."

–

Kristoff waited until they were alone in the elevator to speak.

"Anna, you didn't need to cover for me back there."

"Yes, I did," Anna snipped, lowering her voice to a whisper. She punched the button for the lobby and the car shifted, beginning its descent. "I don't know why you were here, breaking into my apartment– and I don't _want_ to know. As far as I'm concerned, you can consider us even now."

The bell pinged the arrival to the ground floor and the doors opened. Kristoff and Anna stepped out together, walking side-by-side across the busy lobby. She took him as far as the doors before speaking again.

"I'd very much appreciate it if you'd leave me alone from here on out. This is my life– always _was_ meant to be my life– and the last thing I need is for you to keep popping up and disrupting it."

Finished with what she had to say, Anna turned to leave, but Kristoff wasn't going to let her go just yet; he reached out and snatched her by the arm to stop her from walking away from him. She glanced back at him, indignant.

"Let me go."

"No, Anna, not until you hear me out."

" _Yes_ , Anna," she corrected, pulling her arm free and glaring at him. "We're done here."

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them: "I love you."

Anna froze at his confession, her eyes livid and jaw tense. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. I love you, Anna. God dammit, _I love you_ –"

"Stop it–"

"And I know you love me too, if you'd just–"

"I _mean_ it, Kristoff."

"Hans isn't who you think he is–"

"I said, _stop it!_ " Her voice was a screech that would send even the most ancient of banshees running in fright. Angry tears swelled from her eyes, leaving burning trails down her cheeks that reflected the bright lights overhead, turning them to fire. "You're wrong about me! You're wrong about _everything_. You don't know what I want, you don't know who I love, you _don't_ know Hans, and _you don't know anything about love_."

Kristoff visibly flinched at her words and had to take an instinctive step back to steady himself.

"Leave. I never want to see you again. It's for your own good… and mine."

There was no conviction in her voice. Kristoff tried to read her expression to find an answer, an explanation. When he scanned Anna's eyes, he realized that– for the first time ever– he could see the emotion in them clearly; she loved him. She _loved_ him, as much as he loved her, and she was letting him go, either because she didn't realize it yet, or because she was afraid.

He was reminded of Elsa's words, about the fear of the unknown; about how difficult it was to throw away your old dream to take a chance on a new one– even if the old one turned out to be a sham.

Either way, no matter what Kristoff said or did, he knew he couldn't convince Anna; it was evident that her wonderfully naive mind had been made up long before she met him.

"Check his laptop," he said with finality. "You'll see."

Her voice trembled and she looked as though she might cry. "Just _go,_ Kristoff. Please."

Nodding his acquiescence, Kristoff shoved his hands in his pockets and did as he was told, feeling as though a black hole had ripped open inside his chest and swallowed his still-beating heart whole.


	18. Chapter 18

_Well I didn't mean to do it  
But there's no escaping your love_

 _Counting Crows, "Accidentally In Love"_

—

 _Dear Anna,_

The pencil held fast in Kristoff's left hand trembled above the paper. The burly blond man groaned and committed the graphite tip to the clean surface once again, forcing himself to write.

 _Dear Anna,_

 _I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I'm very bad at following directions. Well, I'm good at the "driving" type of directions, but not verbal instructions. Regardless, I just can't let you go._

Kristoff let out an inadvertent snort, his mind and body too loose with alcohol to control his reactions to his own writing.

 _I don't care that you're always late for everything, or that you're a messy ice cream eater. I don't care that you're impulsive and indecisive and cuss like a sailor. And unlike Hans, I don't care about your money. Hell, I'd be happy panhandling and living in a cardboard box off of Times Square as long as I was with you._

Kristoff paused his mad scribbling to take a swig from the half-empty whiskey bottle beside him on the desk, setting the glass back down on the wooden desktop with a hamfisted _thud_.

 _But I do care about you, Anna. And that's why you should marry me instead._

He wanted to hate her; wanted to curse her name and the time they'd spent together, wanted to scorn her and forget about her a just move on already. He really did. The tears in his eyes began to spill over, staining the paper with spots of wet. The strong hand holding the pencil squeezed, knuckles whitening, until the yellow stick snapped cleanly in half in his grip.

"God dammit," he cursed himself, wiping his face with both hands.

Here he was, a lonely mail carrier, trying to mail a letter outlining the state of his loneliness to another person. The irony was not lost on him, even in his inebriated state.

"I'm a fucking mail man," he mumbled aloud. "This is stupid. I should just be able to go there and tell her how I feel."

The two things weren't at all related, but that didn't matter to the drunken man; going to the church to speak to Anna on her wedding day somehow seemed like a _fucking_ _great_ idea.

Having the foresight to throw on a light jacket first, Kristoff trudged out of his building and out onto the street to hail a cab to the church.

–

The last of the fussing female assistants left the room, shutting the door quietly behind herself, leaving the blushing (read: flustered) bride-to-be alone at last.

Anna had been up since the crack of dawn, being shuttled from place to place like cattle, poked and prodded and wrapped up akin to a Christmas present, before finally arriving at the church feeling more like a science experiment than a bride.

Today she would become Mrs. Hans Westergaard. After years of dreaming, her dream was finally becoming a reality, but in all of her dreams about her wedding day, she had never once anticipated it being so... _miserable_.

And why did she feel so sick to her stomach?

She was seated at the vanity in the little dressing room at the back of the church, allotted for the bride and her party to relax before the ceremony. Anna had asked for a moment of peace to ready herself, and Elsa and the other ladies had obliged. When her older sister shot her a reassuring smile over her shoulder before leaving, Anna couldn't even muster up the heart to return it.

Standing up, she crossed the room to her overnight bag, in which she had packed as many essentials as she thought she might need: lipstick, bobby pins, a change of underwear, mouthwash. She had packed some snacks, too, but those were long gone, and her stomach grumbled at the mere thought of going another three or four hours without food– she wanted a pizza more than _anything_.

But there, at the bottom of the bag, tucked away, was Hans' laptop.

She hadn't been able to get Kristoff's words out of her mind after their last interaction. _Check Hans' laptop_ , he had said. But why? What could possibly be on Hans' laptop that would be of any interest to Anna?

Evidence of him cheating, maybe?

Before she knew what she was doing, she had pulled the laptop out and set it on her lap, opening it and pressing the power button with her neatly-manicured fingertip.

The screen flashed to life with a whir of crescendoing music. An ominous, gray login screen greeted Anna, prompting her for a password.

 _That's odd_ , she thought. None of her own electronics had passwords. She had never had anything to hide from Hans, and so she had never seen the point in securing anything.

She tried to think of what his password could possibly be. That's when she noticed the little "?" bubble beside the input box. When she clicked it, the password hint only read: _Anna_.

She harrumphed before punching in a guess.

 _Arendelle_.

 _Click_.

 _Incorrect_.

Biting her knuckles, Anna tried to come up with something else, but she felt helpless. There was an infinite number of things that the password could be; she'd never be able to guess correctly. She punched out another attempt on the keyboard.

 _AnnaIsTheLoveOfMyLife100._

She snorted at her little joke, and clicked.

 _Incorrect._

"Dumb," she muttered out loud to herself. A sudden stroke of genius hit her then, and she attempted one last guess.

 _1222._

 _Click._

 _Accepted._

 _Of course_ , she thought dully. His password was the pin number to her bank account.

The desktop came to life, littered with icons for multiple different programs and folders. One oddly named folder in particular caught Anna's attention: it was titled simply: " _Sandwiches_."

Upon opening it, the files she found astounded her. Text document upon text document of letters addressed to Weselton House, alongside numerous spreadsheets and content calendars that were meant for internal eyes. Hans had even managed to snag some graphics and stock photos that had been commissioned for Arendelle Publishing's use only.

Kristoff had been right all along: Hans _wasn't_ the man she thought he was. Who she so desperately wanted him to be.

But Kristoff– _he_ was exactly the man Anna knew he was. A smart, funny, goofy, hardworking, caring man…

The man she'd missed day in and day out since she first met him; the man who had done nothing but consume her thoughts when she was awake, and starred in her dreams when she was asleep, constantly wondering whether or not she hadn't made a huge mistake by choosing Hans over him.

Of course she knew she had. She had _fucked_ up– big time.

It made her want to punch herself in the face, and _hard_.

"Oh my God," Anna cursed out loud, placing a hand to her breast, and though she could placate the erratic beating of her heart through the beaded bodice of her gown as the realization dawned on her: she loved Kristoff.

She was _in love_ with Kristoff.

A sudden knock at the door startled Anna enough to knock her backwards in her seat, but she managed to hang on to the computer in her lap.

"Anna?" came Elsa's muffled voice from the other side of the door. "It's almost time. Are you ready? Can I come in?"

Faster than Elsa could turn the door handle, Anna jumped up threw the door open with gusto, beaming at her sister with the laptop secured in the crook of her elbow.

" _I'm not getting married today!_ "

Her voice was airy with unbridled excitement; surely too much excitement to be proper, considering that the words tumbling out of her mouth greatly contradicted the ceremony of the day.

"What?" Elsa took a wary step back, stunned.

"Well, I don't have to get married– because– well, anyway, I don't _want_ to! Not to Hans, anyway. And now I don't _have_ to! I won't!"

The elder Arendelle shook her head, visibly baffled.

"Anna, I don't know what's gotten into you lately…"

Gripping Elsa by the shoulders, Anna shook her sister violently, and the pale-haired woman winced at the harsh movement.

" _Love!_ " she nearly screeched at the top of her lungs, the joy of it filling her chest, about to burst with the feeling. "I'm _in love!_ For real this time! Or, at least, I think so."

Elsa raised a brow. "So, you _do_ love Kristoff after all?"

"Yes," Anna breathed; it felt good to admit it. "I love Kristoff. _I'm in love with Kristoff!_ "

The older sister huffed out an " _about fucking time_ " under her breath.

The bride squealed and spun away from her sister, practically floating on her satin pumps. She stopped suddenly in her tracks, gazing out of the window.

"Oh no," she whispered. "I have to go tell him."

"Anna?"

"Here," the strawberry-blonde woman thrust the laptop into Elsa's arms. "Password is one, two, two, two. Your birthday. Hans was behind the espionage all along. It's all there, in a folder called 'Sandwiches.'"

Elsa blinked and swallowed with difficulty before clutching the device closer to her chest. "O-okay…"

Anna wrapped her arms around her sister in an exuberant hug, before pulling away and racing down the hall, hiking her skirt up from the floor to avoid tripping.


	19. Chapter 19

_Not really sure how to feel about it  
Something in the way you move  
Makes me feel like I can't live without you  
It takes me all the way  
I want you to stay_

 _Rihanna, "Stay"_

—

Kristoff had sobered up considerably on the ride from his Queens apartment to the swanky corner church in Manhattan– but not enough to rethink his terrible decision to confess his feelings to Anna on her wedding day in a last-ditch attempt to get her to reconsider.

When he stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk, however, he found that his confidence had left him. Regardless, he resolved his will and made his way through the double-doors to the church.

He found himself in an empty hallway; from beyond a set of interior doors he could hear the din and murmurs of a crowded room of guests. His head whipped this way and that, deciding which way he should go to try to find Anna, when a man rounded the corner and manifested into his frame of vision.

Kristoff recognized him immediately as Anna's fiance, Hans, and felt his blood begin to boil.

The russet-haired man seemed to recognize Kristoff as well; his expression soured as he approached the larger man, narrowing his green eyes in disdain.

" _You_ ," he snarled, pulling at the lapels of his tuxedo; Kristoff surmised that a suit so fine must cost more than his monthly salary. "What do you think you're doing here?"

Then his face darkened. "Did Anna invite you?"

Kristoff clenched his fists at his sides, ignoring his question. "I need to talk to her."

"Not happening."

"Listen, Hans, I know what you're up to," the blond man warned, raising a finger. "I know you've been using Anna. And I'm _going_ to tell her."

The russet-haired man grinned– a snarky, knowing grin– and he crossed his arms over his chest in a posture of defiance. Kristoff wasn't sure what he expected to come out of his mouth next, but it wasn't anything close to the confession that flowed from between his lips as smooth as honey.

"You're right. I _am_ using Anna."

Kristoff visibly recoiled, lowering his finger, too shocked by Hans' confession to even begin to register the rage that he _should_ be feeling.

"But _why?_ Anna's a great girl."

Hans _pfft'd_. "I wasn't lucky enough to be _born_ into money like Anna, and I wasn't going to go through my entire life on someone else's dime. I needed to make _my own_ luck. Anna– _and_ Elsa– presented the best opportunity for that."

"So you decided to sell them out?" Kristoff scoffed, shaking his head. "That's low, man. Real fucking low."

"Deciding to marry Anna so that everything that was hers would become _mine_ was a no-brainer." He chuckled then and Kristoff's knuckles twitched. "It definitely helped that she was _so_ _desperate_. But, of course, you know _all about that_."

The meaning behind Hans' words was not lost on Kristoff and it took all of his willpower to not tackle the shiteating grin off of the man's face right then and there in the middle of the church hallway.

Instead, Kristoff gritted his teeth, speaking through them with effort. "Is _that_ what you were doing on Saturdays when you told Anna that you were at work? Plotting against them? "

" _Sometimes_ ," Hans replied knowingly and with a shrug, smiling. He knew what that smile meant and it made Kristoff sick to his stomach; it made him want to knock the smugness clear off of the smaller man's freckled face even more– preferably with his fist.

"But other times I was… otherwise occupied."

Stepping forward threateningly, deliberately, Kristoff didn't stop until he was nearly toe-to-toe with the groom-to-be, staring him down as menacingly as he knew how.

"I'm _going_ to tell Anna," he growled. "Whether you try to stop me or not."

"You really think she's going to just _believe you?_ " Hans laughed– a deep, belly laugh. "You've got no proof!"

"No, but _I_ do."

Both men whipped around to see Elsa approaching from the the other end of the hall, flanked by a policeman and carrying a laptop– Hans' laptop.

The russet-haired man seemed to lose his bravado all at once; Kristoff thought, that if he looked carefully enough, he could probably see his backbone sliding out of his slacks and squeaking out the door.

"Mr. Westergaard?" the policeman rumbled, addressing the rapidly-paling man standing before him. "If I could have a word."

The color rushed from Hans' face as his eyes flicked from the laptop in Elsa's arms, to the uniformed officer, and back again. As calmly as he could, he spun on his heel as if to leave, only to bump straight into a heavyset man who Kristoff recognized as Kai from Anna's office.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" the middle-aged man chortled, raising an eyebrow. Kristoff would have never thought the man dangerous until now; the way his eyes betrayed the barely subdued anger simmering down below was a downright terrifying sight.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private and _talk?_ "

Seeing no other choice, Hans allowed Kai to grab him by the upper arm– a bit too tightly to be comfortable– and drag him to a room off of the hall, the police officer following with an amused smirk playing across his features.

Hiding his own smirk, Kristoff turned to the elder Arendelle. "Elsa, where's Anna? I _have_ to talk to her."

"You just missed her," She lamented. She squeezed the laptop tighter into herself. "She left, like, twenty minutes ago."

"Do you know where she went?"

Elsa couldn't help but smile.

–

The sun was already setting when Kristoff finally made it back to his building. Foregoing the elevator, he raced up the stairs– all sixteen flights, straight to his floor.

 _Please don't be too late,_ he prayed.

The hall was awash in the dying light of day that streamed in through the single window at the end of the hall, above the radiator. Beside the radiator, slumped against the door to his own apartment, was a strawberry-blonde woman in a white wedding gown, fast asleep with her knees pulled up and her head resting on her shoulder.

The sight of her filled Kristoff with relief.

Moving carefully so as not to wake her, Kristoff knelt and gently scooped the unconscious woman into his arms. Jostled awake by the movement, Anna's blue eyes fluttered open, squinting up at him.

"Kristoff?"

"Hey there, Feisty Pants," he murmured, smiling down at her as he fumbled for the doorknob, which he managed to open the door one-handed. He carried the bride over the threshold and over to the couch, where he laid her down with her head on the armrest.

"I'm so sorry," Anna mumbled sleepily, squeezing her eyes closed once more as she hugged her arms tighter around herself. "I'm a fucking idiot."

"You're not an idiot," Kristoff corrected with a shake of his head. He took a seat beside her, careful to avoid the many taffeta layers of her skirt.

Anna sighed. "I pride myself on paying attention to detail, yet I never noticed that Hans wasn't who I thought he was. Who I wanted him to be. It was so obvious, all along… I'm so stupid."

"You were blinded by love. You can't blame yourself."

"That wasn't love," she scoffed with a self-pitying laugh, crossing her arms with a palm on either elbow and turning her gaze to the side. "I just attached myself to the first guy who gave me a shred of attention. Like some dumb, twisted coping mechanism, or something. I really didn't know what love was. I know that now."

Her turquoise eyes turned sad and glossed over. "I really was just in love with the idea of being in love."

"Well, I didn't know what love was, either," Kristoff murmured with a shrug. He tenderly grasped her face and turned her to face him. "But now I do. And _you_ do, too. It's what you feel for your sister. It's what your parents taught you. It's what i feel for you."

Anna's eyes grew hopeful. "You mean..."

"I love you, Anna."

"You really do?"

" _Yes,_ " Kristoff laughed. "I _really_ do."

"I love you too, Kristoff." Anna's voice broke on the second syllable of his name. "I do. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

They regarded each other for a moment; Kristoff's hand snaked forward across the skirt of her dress, his fingers finding hers and twining, content to enjoy the moment without words. Leaning forward, Kristoff pressed his forehead to her own, allowing the world around them to fall away as he focused on nothing but the sound of her breathing.

After a moment, Anna let out a laugh and beamed up at him, causing Kristoff to pull away to give her a quizzical look.

"Is it too cheesy if I tell you that you may kiss the bride?" she snorted.

" _Way_ too cheesy," Kristoff laughed, his warm brown eyes twinkling at her. "But, I think I _would_ like to kiss you."

"I think I would like that, too."


	20. Chapter 20

_In these coming years  
Many things will change  
But the way I feel  
Will remain the same_

 _Panic! At The Disco, "The End Of All Things"_

—

 _Two years later_

The late summer air that drifted in through the open windows from the sea was warm, but crisp, and Kristoff was vaguely reminded of the night that he and Anna had first made love.

It had been two years since they met, and yet so much had happened in that time. A year after beginning their relationship– a year to the day that Anna had bumped into Kristoff at the UPS drop box– he proposed to her in the same spot. That night they had gotten around to talking about their future, and decided that they hated being stuck in the city.

So, they had each quit their jobs and moved to the Cape Cod estate, where they started an event planning business together; Kristoff ran the accounts and maintained the paperwork, and Anna handled the customer interactions and creative side of things.

They'd decided on a small, summer wedding at the Cape; it had only seemed fitting that they wed at the same place they would start this new chapter of their lives together, and Kristoff had to agree that he liked the sentimentality of it all. Elsa had been the maid of honor, and Sven had been the best man and ringbearer; Anna had even bought him a special bowtie collar for the occasion. Kristoff's adoptive parents were in attendance, and they welcomed Anna into their mixed family with open arms; it made Anna feel as though they already loved her as a daughter, and she'd cried when she thanked them for raising a man as fine as Kristoff.

After a month-long honeymoon touring Europe. Anna had sold her Manhattan loft and Kristoff had allowed the lease on his Queens apartment to run out, before officially and finally moving in together at the Cape Cod estate to run their company as husband and wife.

"That's it!" Kristoff announced with a happy shout, rubbing his hands together in accomplishment. "The last box is finally unpacked."

"Well, not the _last_ box."

Kristoff whipped around to see that Anna had re-entered the room, holding a wide, wrapped rectangular box topped with a shiny yellow bow in her hands. She was dressed casually in a pair of leggings and an oversized green sweatshirt, her ginger hair done up in a messy style. The tiny diamond solitaire on her ring finger sparkled beautifully in the light coming in from the large bay windows; Kristoff hadn't felt even the slightest bit apprehensive about proposing to her with a ring so small. He knew that Anna wasn't materialistic– one of the many things he adored about his wife.

"What's this for?" he asked her, intrigued as it was the middle of September and his birthday wasn't for at least another month.

She simply shrugged and handed him the gift, pouting her lip as if she had no idea what it was for, though the corners of her mouth twitched with mischief.

"Open it," she suggested.

He did so– eagerly but with a dash of suspicion– evident by the way he narrowed his eyes at his wife as he tore the satin ribbon and crimson paper away in fervor. He opened the clamshell lid to see a folded blue flannel shirt tucked neatly into the tissue paper.

He set the box down on the table before him and pulled the shirt up by the shoulders, holding it up in the air in front of him to inspect it; it was eerily reminiscent of the one he had lent to Anna almost exactly two years earlier. It had mysteriously disappeared without a trace… until now.

"My old shirt?" Kristoff laughed, turning to her. "I'd thought this thing was long gone."

Anna shrugged again. "I found it in my things when I was packing up my apartment. Anyway, I needed it for reference so I could match the material just right."

Puzzled, Kristoff cocked his head at his fiancee. "Reference for what?"

Anna gestured with a tip of her chin towards the box. Looking back at it, Kristoff could see another blue flannel shirt lying amongst the paper. When he picked it up, however, he realized that this one was smaller than his own– _much_ smaller. In fact, it was small enough to fit...

"A baby?"

He turned to Anna for affirmation and she nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

"You mean… you're going to be a– and I'm going to be a– and we're going to have a–"

" _Yes_ ," Anna laughed, taking his larger hand in her own and moving it to rest on her stomach, which had yet to begin to swell. "Now shut up and kiss me already."

He didn't need to be told twice.

–

 **Thank you all for following this story! It was super fun for me to write, probably just because I love when things are so uber dramatic and cheesy. ;-)**


End file.
